Ashes
by Sastrei
Summary: How do you rise from the ashes of everything you've lost? Shrieking madly and set aflame, of course. A story of friendship, family, growth, and grief. (Slight AU that expands as the story progresses. Eventual Kratos/OC.) Cover pic is Sara and Kratos, by me. :) I just completed a massive revamp of this story and I hope it makes the read more enjoyable. Thank you for looking!
1. Umbra (Shadow)

Chapter One

 _Umbra_

* * *

Colette didn't eat her breakfast this morning.

Not that she was normally a very voracious eater, though the blonde-haired girl certainly did work up an appetite after travelling on foot all day. But lately – specifically yesterday, after she'd just gained her angel wings at the Seal of Fire – she had no desire to eat anymore. Worse, she didn't even feel tired after abstaining from food…like she no longer required its nutrition to stay healthy.

And everyone seemed to have their own reason why she didn't want to eat. Genis had chalked it up to the stress of the journey and being away from home. Raine had said she needed rest, and passed it off as something that would correct itself over time. Kratos, as per usual, said nothing. But Lloyd had instincts the others didn't.

He knew she wasn't quite right, and that scared her more than the behemoth fire-breathing monster they'd slain before.

Admittedly, he didn't know _why_ she wasn't quite right, but the fact that he saw through her mask of bravery was unnerving to her. Colette had always been told to face her trials with unwavering courage, and that was what she intended. But those knowing looks Lloyd gave her when she kindly declined a meal were making it truly hard to keep lying to him.

She gazed up at the bright blue sky with even bluer eyes and forced a smile. The Chosen's life was never easy.

For the moment, Lloyd thankfully didn't seem too preoccupied with her condition. As the five of them continued towards the Ossa Trail, the brown-eyed boy kept a few paces ahead of her, his twin blades withdrawn and swinging at invisible enemies. At the encouragement of Kratos, he spent almost every waking moment enthusiastically practicing his swordsmanship. Whenever he would try a new move, he would glance back at the mercenary for feedback with a beaming grin on his face, but all he would ever receive was either an imperceptible nod, a low grunt, or, if Kratos was _really_ impressed, a nod _and_ a grunt.

He kept on trying, though. For all his naïvete and boyish habits, Lloyd's determination could be truly inspiring.

Or headache-inducing, depending on who you talked to.

Raine led the group. She held her staff in one hand and a compass in the other, ensuring that they were always headed in the right direction; in this case, towards the coast on the far east. Kozei was not far now - but she wasn't exactly excited to arrive.

Raine _hated_ dragons.

Their scaly hides…their piercing horns…and those teeth that could chew you to pieces in one bite. They smelled weird too, like charred earth. And that _awful_ sound of flapping wings… A look of disdain marred her graceful face at the mere thought.

She wasn't looking forward to passing through Kozei, but it was the only way to get to their next destination. Lloyd, of course, couldn't wait to get there, and neither could her brother Genis: "Dragons are awesome!" they'd echoed in unison. Raine wondered as they approached the summit of a hill what it would be like to share their enthusiasm. _Males…_

A dark figure suddenly rushed past her, and it took Raine a moment to realize the arm that was now blocking her path belonged to Kratos. He'd been at the rear of the group less that a second ago. How that man moved so fast was beyond her.

Raine blinked and looked up at the mercenary with narrowed eyes. "Do you hear something?"

The other three halted behind them as Kratos nodded, one hand on the hilt of his gleaming sword. "There are many voices. Desians," he added coldly. "Just over this hill."

Colette widened her eyes, Genis slumped his shoulders and Lloyd hissed a curse.

Raine's expression fell grim. "Let's take a look. Maybe we can avoid them."

The five of them cautiously approached the summit, Kratos in the lead. Kozei lay at the bottom, a few hundred yards ahead. The small village consisted of maybe three-dozen houses, all in varying sizes and states of decay. Most were created out of greyish-green limestone blocks likely extracted from a quarry in the nearby mountains, their roofs a crude mixture of tar and wooden planks. A few sparse trees speckled the landscape, the only vegetation for miles. A ramshackle fence futilely attempted to circle the town's perimeter. All in all, a pretty run-down, unremarkable village - except for the hulking forms of what looked to be over fifty dragons, blotted among the houses like brown and green and black ink stains. The occasional growling call of one of the beasts could be heard over the shouting human voices, half of which belonged to the villagers, and the other half, the Desians.

Kratos was right once again. There were indeed Desians, but they weren't pillaging or causing other such anarchy.

They were…buying something?

"What's going on?" Lloyd said into the silence, echoing everyone's thoughts.

"The Desians don't seem to be causing harm," Kratos said calmly. "Let us watch for a moment before we take action."

* * *

Sara Baldasarre had never been this angry.

The door to her home flew open with such force that a hinge cracked. It was left open, forgotten. She stalked outside, her solid legs eating up the dusty earth as she pulled on a pair of grey-blue gauntlets over black gloves and sun-darkened skin.

She snarled a vile string of curses under her breath. Short, fiery orange hair swayed with each of her pounding steps, the tail of a teal duster floating behind her as she walked on feet covered in durable knee-high boots. A pair of deep chestnut eyes narrowed in accusation as she approached a tall, stocky, balding man who was talking with a pair of those stupid Desians. Never one to be subtle, she reached out a confident hand and grabbed his shoulder from behind, whipping him around to face her furious gaze.

"Mayor Clark! What in the hell do you think you're _doing_?"

The startled man quickly regained his composure and fed her a greedy smirk from his lightly-wrinkled face. He gestured grandly to the two Desians glaring at her from beneath their tarnished metal helmets.

"Sara, dear, don't be so naïve. I'm making this village more money today than it's ever seen!"

The woman's jaw dropped in disbelief, but her blazing eyes didn't lose their resolve. Her small, heart-shaped face was contorted in an expression of disgust. She glanced from the Mayor's smug smile, to the Desians, and back. Unlike him, she was well aware of the atrocious things that this group of half-elves was capable of.

"But, you don't know what they're going to do with our dragons!" She pressed. Her voice was naturally low and a bit hoarse, but it sounded moreso now than usual. "You can't just _sell_ them to-"

"Oh yes, I can," he cut her off sternly. "These gentlemen have agreed to pay us fifty-thousand gald per dragon. Fifty-thousand! Do you know what we can buy with all that gald? We'll be the richest city in Sylvarant!"

One of the Desians chuckled and pointed his sword at Sara, sneering when she looked down at its sharpened tip with repugnance. "I get the feeling that this one doesn't like us very much." He sent a wary look to the mayor, his voice low and threatening. "Maybe we should reconsider our deal…?"

All the color drained from Mayor Clark's face. Turning to Sara, he growled and raised his broad hand as if to slap her. She stared at him defiantly, unflinching, her hands curling into fists.

"I dare you," she muttered darkly.

He ignored her. "Dammit, Sara, don't ruin this for the village! Just go back to your house and be quiet!"

She gave him one last broiling look before she turned and headed into the center of town. Whatever the Desians wanted the dragons for was _not_ something she would be part of. What was going _on_ with Kozei? Not even the _mayor_ cared what happened. As she headed for a neighbor's house, she hoped the rest of the villagers had more of a heart.

* * *

In all of the bargaining going on, Lloyd and his group were unnoticed. The five of them stood at the entrance to the village, watching the scene in front of them unfold with widened eyes.

The Desians had brought an army of massive vehicles with steel cages anchored to the back. Several of their soldiers were talking with Kozei villagers in businesslike voices, exchanging what looked to be large bags of gald. Once the exchange was made, the villagers always returned to their homes without a second thought, and the Desian soldiers would then brandish a weapon that none of the Chosen's group had seen before. It looked to be a large apparatus that fired a steel clamp, which would anchor itself around a dragon's neck and then send a jolt of searing electricity through its skin.

Cries of dragons in pain began echoing throughout the village. Shouts of Desians rose up as a dragon here or there would fight back, rearing up on its powerful hind legs, wings flared, flinging the soldiers about as if they were ragdolls. But another one of those shocks would prove to be too much for it, and it would fall in a crumpled heap to the ground. The Desians would then coax the weakened beast into one of those cages, locking it away for whatever malevolent purpose they had planned.

All the while, the humans of the village did nothing to stop it.

Colette teared up at the sight of so much suffering. Every one of those desperate roars made her thin shoulders flinch. She held her clasped hands below her chin and shook her head. "This is awful…"

"Why aren't the villagers fighting them? Don't they know what's going on?" Genis asked, looking up at his older sister.

Raine let out a sigh. She may not have been fond of dragons, but seeing them in pain like this was not something that sat well with her. "The dragons are being sold, Genis. Look." She pointed the crystalline head of her staff at a trio of villagers in the midst of making a deal with a group of Desians. The Desians held up a bag of gald and gestured to it, then the dragon standing behind the villagers. "The Desians are buying all of Kozei's dragons. But why?"

Kratos stepped beside Raine and narrowed his cinnamon eyes. "Exspheres," he said simply.

Lloyd turned to look at the auburn-haired man, startled. "Exspheres? You mean, the Desians are using dragons for Exspheres? Like at Iselia's human ranch?"

Whatever Kratos was staring at kept him from answering Lloyd's question. Among the crowd, he spotted a tall woman with orange hair running around to each of the villagers. It appeared she was pleading with them, pointing frantically from the dragons to the Desians and shaking her head.

"Someone is dissenting," he said. One hand went instinctively to his sword. "Be on your guard, Lloyd. This may become unpleasant."

* * *

"Suka, please listen to me!" Sara cried, holding out her arms to prevent a thin, frail woman from walking past her. She shook her head, her chest heaving, her eyes wild as she pointed to the dragon in front of her. "You know the Desians won't be kind to Londys like you have. Just look at what they've done to Belial and Iskur!"

The woman named Suka closed her eyes and shook her head of pale brown hair, hefting the bag of gald in her arms. "I had to give him up, Sara. You know how my family's fallen on hard times. This money will change our lives." She placed a hand on Sara's shoulder, sorrow obvious on her weathered face. "I'm sorry. You understand."

Sara turned to follow Suka as she continued towards her home. "But…but you've raised Londys since he was a hatchling. You've taken care of him for over fifteen years! Does his life mean so little to you?"

Suka continued forward without acknowledging her, and promptly shut the door in her face.

Sara stared in bewilderment at the stained wooden door. A mighty roar behind her forced her to turn around, and she could only watch as Londys met the same fate as so many of the others had. Blinding arcs of electricity shot up his neck and through his wings, and he struggled to free himself from the restraint around his neck even as he collapsed to the ground. He eyed Sara desperately, completely bewildered and frightened, like he was begging for help and some sort of explanation as to why everything suddenly hurt so much.

Sara cringed and looked away. These goddamn Desians…they had destroyed her life once already. And now that she'd come back and rebuilt herself, they were ruining it all over again.

Steeling herself, Sara sprinted to the house at the far end of town; fortunately, the Desians hadn't made it this far yet. This was where the dragons she helped care for were penned. They stood taller than the others, their horns longer, and both wore scars on their scales from battles waged long ago. One had scales of a pale green, and the other a gray-blue, their strong necks arched high, watching their brothers and sisters being taken away with wise and fearful eyes. Their hatchling, a smaller dragon with deep purple scales, cried out to Sara as she approached, seeking comfort amidst all the noise.

Sara slowed to a walk and held her hands out to cradle the young dragon's head. It returned her affection instantly, rubbing its snout against her arm as wisps of smoke trailed from its nostrils.

"It's alright, Iona," Sara cooed, gently scratching behind her budding horns. Sara took in a breath and let it out in a rush. "I won't let them hurt you. I promise."

Iona whinnied at her, bouncing from one leg to the other, flaring her wings and then pulling them back. Sara gazed up at the two older beasts. "Tarja. Ko'tenda… You have to fight them. Please. You have to-"

"Sara."

The front door of the house beside her opened with a weary creak. A man and woman stood in the doorway, looking at Sara solemnly. The woman's head hung low as she kept her eyes lowered to the floor, and her hands shook as they gripped the edges of a dull brown shawl.

Sara rushed to them. "Tana, Mikhail! Please tell me you aren't going to do it…"

The man, Mikhail, stared back at her coldly. "You know we have to, Sara."

Sara's face fell, her shoulders sagging under the weight of his words. She shook her head slowly. "Not Tarja and Ko. You can't…"

"As their handlers, we have the right," Mikhail continued as if she hadn't spoken. He glanced off to the side as a group of Desians began approaching. "They've offered us 100,000 gald for both of them. Do you realize how much money that is? We can live off that for the rest of our lives!"

More agonized roars split the air. Sara flinched with each one, her shoulders jerking, her breath catching in her throat. Desians shouted orders and curses and she heard the sound of the cages closing, smelled the stench of burned skin from those shock collars.

Her eyes shut tight, and little by little, her hands curled into those trembling fists again.

"It's just money," she muttered in a low voice. Her swaying bangs cast shadows over her face, hiding her expression. "You're sending them to die for money."

Mikhail seemed momentarily taken aback by the abrupt shift in her demeanor. The kind face Sara had grown so accustomed to seeing had been replaced with one of obstinate, guiltless frigidity. He placed one arm protectively around his wife Tana and stepped into the yard. "You don't know they're going to _die,_ Sara. Besides, my family needs this. It's time to forget our old ways and find our place in the world." He gestured to the surrounding homes with a sweep of his arm. "Kozei has been poor for decades. This is our chance to gain status as a prominent city…not some run-down dragon farm."

Every one of Sara's muscles tensed. She couldn't understand what had happened to the village…why everyone had been so blinded by greed. Gald was just gald. These dragons were living, breathing, feeling creatures, creatures she truly cared for, and she knew they were being sent to their deaths.

Why was she the only one left who cared?

Pained cries echoed in her ears. The Desians laughed cruelly as the remaining dragons were electrocuted and hauled off in cages. Her whole existence, everything she'd ever loved, was falling to pieces all around her. Her friends, her neighbors, and finally Tarja and Ko'tenda's handlers…all greedy traitors, taking their money and never looking back.

Sara stood in silence, her head lowered, her fists clenched at her sides as the Desians swarmed around her. Another soldier approached Tana and Mikhail at the door, smirking as he held out two large bags of gald.

"Here's the money we promised. A hundred grand for the two big ones."

Mikhail released his wife and took the money from the Desian's extended hand. He handed them off to Tana, who took hold of the bags and cradled them like children, repeating "Oh, thank you" over and over in a pitiful voice. She stood by her husband and wept, overwhelmed by the enormous fortune resting comfortably in her grasp.

There was a pause, and Sara thought the transaction was over until Mikhail spoke again.

"The hatchling… she has an exceptional pedigree," he added quietly. The Desian who'd given them the money turned to look at Iona, his armor clattering softly at the movement.

Sara's eyes snapped open. They were dark and lost and very _wrong_.

Mikhail continued, his voice seemingly devoid of feeling. "We'd be willing to sell her, too…For the right price."

A hand to his chin, the Desian thought in silence for a moment before he gestured at another soldier. He was promptly brought an additional large bag of gald.

"Lord Kvar has displayed interest in experimenting with hatchlings as well. We'll pay you thirty-thousand for it."

Hesitation didn't even flicker on Mikhail's face as he nodded and accepted the third bag. "Thank you for your generosity." Hefting it onto his shoulder, he turned to Tana, smiling. "Honey, can you believe this? We're _rich_!"

Now that the business was out of the way, the Desians were eager to wrap up the process. Sara could feel the ground rumble as three of the steel cages were pulled up beside Tarja and Ko'tenda's pen. A couple of the soldiers were readying two of those large guns that fired metal clamps. The pair of dragons grew agitated, stomping their clawed feet and calling out with low, threatening grunts. After witnessing what had happened to the others, it was obvious to the creatures what sort of fate was coming for them as well.

Iona cried out in fear as the Desians surrounded she and her parents, looking around desperately for a way to escape. One of them pointed a sword at Iona's face and laughed at the way she recoiled.

"Shut up, you monster, or else I'll take your head off before all the fun starts."

Sara's low, smooth voice caught their attention: "You will not harm her."

There was something off about the way she was standing, her shoulders hunched and her head lowered. The air around her seemed to shimmer as if she were radiating an intense heat. "And you will not take Tarja or Ko'tenda. I will not let you."

The Desian who paid off Tana and Mikhail approached her, laughing and brandishing his sword. "Heh. I'd love to see you try. What do you think _you're_ going to do about it, woman?"

His fellow soldiers erupted in laughter, and the sound of it drowned out the series of soft clicks as a set of what appeared to be battle claws descended from Sara's arm guards. She wiggled her fingers securely into the 3-inch razor-sharp tips and flexed them one at a time. With that done, she clicked her wrists together, and a pair of spikes sprang from the gauntlets' outer edges, curving wickedly back and up towards her head.

She faced Iona, speaking once again in that eerily calm voice.

"Fly away from here, Iona. Fly far away, and don't ever come back."

Iona remained silent, but recognition flashed in her reptilian eyes, displaying for the briefest of moments an intelligence that did not belong there.

Once he had managed to stop laughing at his own jest, the lead Desian snapped his fingers at the others and rested his sword on his shoulder confidently. "Just ignore this stupid bitch. Take the dragons down and let's get out of this dump." They nodded in understanding and moved in towards Tarja and Ko'tenda, who began to utter low, threatening growls.

Sara heard one of them say, "This little one's so puny, we won't even need to shock it!" Another responded with: "I say we just cut its wings off and throw it in with the others."

 _Cut off its wings…_

 _Shut up, you monster…I'll take your head off!..._

 _What do you think_ you're _going to do about it, woman?_

Her head jerked up suddenly. Her crazed eyes locked on to the lead Desian. In a flash, she lunged forward and slashed at his unprotected throat with her claws. She felt them meet deliciously with soft, yielding flesh, tearing and ripping through his skin with glorious ease.

She smelled the tang of blood as it spattered to the ground and across her chest. She heard their vague cries of horror as his lifeless body crumpled at her feet, and she laughed.

And that's the last thing she remembered before her mind succumbed to madness.

* * *

Lloyd had thought he'd seen the lowest the Desians could go when he'd seen Iselia's human ranch. But what was happening in Kozei brought them down to a whole new level of despicable. He looked around the village with wide brown eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "I don't understand! Why are the Desians buying all the dragons?"

"I believe it's like Kratos said earlier, Lloyd," Raine answered as she and the rest of the group walked through Kozei. "They seem to be taking them for some sort of experimentation."

"With Exspheres," Genis finished, glancing down at the gem on the back of his hand with a frown.

Colette felt extremely unsettled. "But why dragons, Professor?"

Raine narrowed her eyes at the dozens of Kozei villagers fawning over their bags of gald. She swallowed and forced down the bile rising in her throat. Watching them made her sick inside.

"Who knows. Perhaps it's an attempt to create new Exspheres. It's reasonable to assume that, since a dragon is physically much stronger than a human, it might create an Exsphere that raises its wearer's abilities to an even higher level, or give the wearer new kinds of powers."

"But a dragon's mana is really different from a human's," Colette said, frowning. "And there's a lot more of it. I think using Exspheres on dragons sounds really dangerous."

Lloyd shook his head and abruptly stopped walking. As the others turned to look back at him, he stared at the dragons locked in the Desians' cages, screeching in pain and clawing desperately at the metal bars.

"I don't know what the Desians are doing, but I know this isn't right. No life should have to suffer like this, not even a dragon." Determined, he unsheathed his gleaming twin blades, looking to the four of his companions for support. "Let's help them!"

Genis widened his eyes and uttered a small sound of surprise. Raine and Kratos exchanged a knowing glance, but Colette was nodding fervently.

"Lloyd, that's not our objective," Raine began in a commanding voice. Truthfully, she agreed with the teen, but that wasn't what was most important at this time. "We need to get to the next seal so Colette can release it. We don't have time to involve ourselves in something like this."

"Our goal is to help the world and all that live in it, right, Professor?" Lloyd pressed, squaring his shoulders in the way he always did when defending one of his many ideals. "Well, these dragons live in it, too. And they need our help! We have to do something!"

Something flashed in Kratos' calculating eyes then, so brief it almost didn't exist. It looked like…pride?

"Lloyd is right!" The Chosen's pale face seemed suddenly cut from stone, unwavering.

Raine sighed again and was just about to speak, but she was interrupted by an ear-piercing, bloodcurdling scream.

"Wh-What was that?" Genis stammered, his pale face even whiter than usual.

Kratos instantly drew his sword and stepped in front of the others. On the far end of town, Desians could be heard shouting and Kozei villagers were running in all directions, fleeing in fear.

In the midst of a group of soldiers was a lone woman in a teal duster. She was savagely fighting the Desians as they attempted to fire shock collars at the village's two remaining dragons.

As he watched her for a moment longer, he realized that she was doing more than merely fighting the Desians. She was _annihilating_ them.

Raine and Genis seemed at once uncomfortable. The latter was squinting as he stared at the stranger, like he were looking at something extremely bright and unable to open his eyes entirely.

"Raine, do you-"

"Yes," the Professor finished grimly. Her chest felt heavy, and the air thin. "I can sense something very… dark."

* * *

Broiling shadows replaced coherent thought. Muscles fired from rage and hatred alone. Sara had no control over her actions anymore. She knew it, and in some dimly-lit corner of her mind, she knew she had to stop - but it didn't matter. Something, some _one_ had invaded her head - a hateful creature that smiled at cries of pain and licked its lips at the taste of blood.

It felt strange. Exciting. Delicious…

A Desian came at her from behind, charging with his blade. She easily ducked out of the way, whipping around on him faster than he could react, and before he'd even registered the fact that he'd missed her, his stomach had been slit open and his intestines were bursting through the gash. Mouth gaping, he futilely attempted to hold the shredded organs in with his gloved hands before he crumpled to the ground.

Another charged at her from the side, and she flung out her arm, catching the blade between the strong, thick spikes on her gauntlet. A metallic screech pierced the air as she forced her arm down along with the sword, disarming the Desian and exposing his vulnerable neck that her claws ripped into just a moment later. Blood sprayed from the wound and dotted her crazed face like red freckles. She smiled wickedly as he collapsed next to the other two.

One of the remaining Desians still had the right of mind to fire the shock collar guns at Tarja and Ko'tenda. The thick metal coils wound through the air and pulled taut once the collars had anchored around the dragons' necks. An arc of prickling electricity shot into the creatures, eliciting deafening roars of agony and setting their scales ablaze with blue sparks.

" _No_!" Sara was on top of the Desian in an instant, pinning him down, flinging off his helmet and tearing at his exposed face with her claws. He made a vague gurgling sound in protest as he tried to speak past the blood filling his mouth, but lost consciousness to the pain of his nose cracking and ripping from his face.

Tarja and Ko'tenda fell, weakened but not yet done in. The pair were true warriors – over five hundred years old, and they weren't going to give up as easily as the rest. The male, Ko'tenda, got to his feet with a pained roar, wings spread wide, and craned his long neck back in preparation for a release of flames.

"Hit it again! Now!" A Desian barked, and another shock was triggered, stronger this time, forcing Ko'tenda's mouth closed before he could attack. The great beast slumped to his knees once again, barely hanging on to consciousness.

" _Stop it, you bastard!_ " Sara shrieked, and just before she would've brought the Desian to a similar fate as his companions, she heard a woman scream.

Her back went rigid and she pivoted to face the source of the sound.

It was Tana, her eyes wide with horror, her hands covering her mouth.

Sara's face fell into a mask of grim sincerity at the sight of her. As the frightened woman's gaze met hers, Sara flexed her claws one by one. A drop of blood fell from the tip of one strand of her hair and splattered to the already stained ground.

 _You…_

The word echoed in her head in time with her deceptively calm heartbeat.

Mikhail, standing next to his wife, stepped in front of her protectively, his arms spread wide despite his pallid and obviously terrified face.

"S-Sara, please, we…we're sorry. We'll give the money back. We'll-"

" _You_ did this to them," Sara snarled. She took another step, crushing the hand of a dead Desian beneath her boot. "My dragons, my _family._ You wanted to send them to their deaths for money."

Mikhail's face went impossibly whiter. Tana started sobbing as if she'd already resigned herself to her fate.

"Sara, please, don't hurt us. We...we're good people. You know that, Sara. We just made a…little mistake," Mikhail pleaded desperately. He paused, swallowing hard, his voice wavering. "Forgive us…We'll g-give the money back, alright?"

"You _coward!_ " She lunged for his neck, and easily tore out his throat with one swift swipe of her hand. "Don't sicken me with your begs for mercy! You've earned your fate." Her foot flew out and connected solidly with his abdomen.

He staggered backwards, holding his hands to his profusely bleeding neck as pressurized streams of blood shot out between his fingers. He managed one last look at his wife before he slumped to his knees and fell face first into the dirt. A puddle of blood crept around his head like a sanguine halo.

Sara slowly lifted her gaze to his wife.

Tana couldn't even manage a scream before Sara's claws slammed into her face. She spun around once and toppled like a ragdoll onto her husband. All that remained of Tana's features was a pulpy mass of flesh that stared blindly up at the sky. The bags of gald rested beside her, as if spectating her death.

Somehow, while Sara had been distracted, the Desians had dragged Tarja and Ko'tenda's unconscious bodies into their cages. She heard one of them say, "Dammit, forget about the little one. Let's just get the hell out of here!"

Rage darkened her bloodstained face, and she would've charged after the parade of cages escaping into the distance if she hadn't spotted something out of the corner of her eye.

It was the villagers. Nearly all of them, circled around her, all staring at her with frightened eyes…like _she_ was the villain here. Like _she_ was the one who had wronged. Sara wrinkled her nose and growled low in her throat at their audacity.

Desiring only money, without any care of what may happen to their dragons… _They_ were the ones who needed to be punished. Her intense russet gaze found Suka amidst the group, the woman who'd sold her dragon Londys just a few minutes earlier.

The woman who'd slammed a door in her face.

 _Die!_

Sara charged without a second thought, screeching in fury as her legs ate up the ground between them with blinding speed, her claws flexed in preparation and poised beside her. Screams burst out from the other villagers, many of whom began running in the opposite direction - but it was too late for Suka, who didn't even have time to hold out a hand to protect herself.

Sara heard the frail woman's neck snap and grinned as her claws viciously crashed into the side of Suka's sunken face, ripping through bone and muscle and sending several of her teeth flying. Chunks of flesh tore from Suka's cheeks and chin and hung dripping from a few of Sara's claws. Suka's body crumpled to the ground and Sara stepped over it triumphantly when she immediately spotted her next victim: Mayor Clark.

A shiver of delight crawled up Sara's spine. She sprinted after him, a predator on the hunt. The bald man couldn't tear his panicked gaze away from her as he half-ran and half-stumbled backwards in a pathetic attempt at fleeing for his life. "Sara! Stop this, please! The villagers…I…we didn't mean to upset you like this!"

The Mayor scrunched his eyes shut and held out his hands in preparation for the final blow, but to his immense surprise, Sara halted right in front of him. He could smell the blood on her clothes and couldn't stop himself from retching as he slowly forced his eyes open to look at her.

She was breathing heavily, her frenzied eyes narrowed, her lips peeled back in a snarl. She stood there silently, as if waiting for him to beg for his life.

Mayor Clark steeled himself and began to speak, but was cut off by the feel of something sharp and blindingly painful shooting up through the base of his chin and piercing into his tongue.

" _Silence_ ," she hissed.

His mouth filled with tangy blood and he stammered a few disjointed syllables when he realized one of Sara's claws had come up through his chin and into his mouth. He howled in pain, a muffled, deformed sound, when she curled the tip of her finger that had embedded in his tongue as if motioning an invisible foe to come closer.

Sara tilted her head to one side and smirked, breathing a wicked chuckle. "It's this silver tongue of yours that made the deal with the Desians." Her voice was off - low, grimy. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, coating her hand in a slick warmth.

Her smirk slowly crept wider until she was grinning maniacally. "Fortunately, you won't be needing it anymore."

All at once, she ripped her finger out of his chin, shoved his head backwards, and sank her claws into his throat. She held there for a second, laughing at the bleating gurgle he cried, before finally jerking her hand back and taking a fistful of sinew and trachea with her.

His body dropped to the ground at her feet. She gave it one last look before raising her eyes and charging at her next victim, another neighbor who would pay for his crimes.

Roaring, she reared her hand back, claws poised to strike…but suddenly there was someone in front of her, and her spiked gauntlet caught on the gleaming blade he held before him in defense of the frightened man.

" _What_?" She leapt backwards a few meters to get a look at the hero. Dressed in royal blue, a head of spiky, shoulder-length auburn hair hid half his face. His deep garnet eyes were trained on her every movement and he kept his blade pointed at her, one strong arm outstretched before him.

He was obviously not a Desian, nor a Kozei villager. And she could sense from his confident stance that he was very skilled.

"Who are _you_?" she growled, flexing her claws.

It was now her turn to be startled when he came at her, sword drawn. She threw her arms up defensively and caught his blade on her spiked gauntlets, her demented chocolate eyes meeting his calm cinnamon ones. She glared at him over her crossed arms and tightened the metallic grip the spikes held on his sword.

He began to speak in a low voice, a faint glowing aura surrounding his tall frame: "O, gentle breeze… ease her pain."

Abruptly, he took a step back and let his sword drop to his side, those calculating eyes still fixed on her.

Sara froze in place. A tranquil, warm gust of wind ghosted across her skin. Still speckled with red blotches, her sun-darkened face began to pale. Her eyes widened and she choked out a sound of astonishment, both arms falling limp to her sides. Slumping to her knees, her head rolled forward languidly as an unseen force swept its way through her embroiled soul, taking with it every last drop of pain, hatred and anger.

She looked to the sky and gasped, as if this were the first breath she'd taken in ages. The force of her rage had dissolved into nothingness. Her body felt light and unburdened, her soul washed clean of its impurities. She gazed into the clouds and slowly began remembering where she was.

Lloyd, Genis, Colette and Raine jogged up to where Kratos stood before her. Kratos, who had seen his share of death, was unfazed by the decimated bodies strewn on the ground, but that was not the case for the others. Colette held her hands over her mouth as tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Raine turned from the sight, gripping her staff tightly as she fought to keep her stomach from turning over. Genis and Lloyd just stared with wide eyes, unable to look away.

Sara blinked to clear her gradually returning vision. Her earthen eyes had regained their normal softness, and they filled with confusion as she saw the group of five people standing before her.

"…Huh?"

She wondered idly why she'd been on her knees as she slowly stood, and she noticed that all of them save the auburn-haired man in front were looking past her with expressions of horror.

So she turned around to see what had their attention, and that's when she noticed the blood on her clothes, still damp. That's when she noticed that she was wearing her battle claws.

And that's when the memories flooded back to her in an incapacitating torrent – the feel of her claws sliding into flesh, the smell of blood as it spilled to the dusty ground, the faces – or lack thereof – of both Desians and Kozei natives as they took their final breaths.

Again, she returned to her knees, a strangled sound of despair leaking from her parted lips as her eyes darted from one body to the next, all of them with gaping slashes across their faces, necks or stomachs. One, two, three, four…four Desians lay dead, their bodies in various states of destruction, and lying just before her was…

Oh, Goddess Martel…she'd killed the mayor. Mayor Clark, who'd known her since she was a small girl, now lay a yard in front of her in a pool of his own blood with his throat torn out.

"N…No," Sara stammered through numb lips. He may have made a poor choice today, but he didn't deserve to die like this. And Suka, little frail Suka was off to her left, what was left of her face now lying in the dirt.

"Oh…Gods…" Her breath hitched in her chest as the first of the sobs came. Tears trickled down her face, carving little paths in the blood caked to her skin. Through their foggy haze, she saw Mikhail, and Tana strewn atop him in a macabre final embrace.

Sara looked down at her hands and almost vomited at the blood and bits of flesh that clung to her claws.

"What… what did I do?"

Vaguely, she heard one of the people behind her step up to her side. She didn't even flinch. They could've been there to kill her for all she cared right now. She would've preferred that, honestly…anything to take her away from this graveyard she'd made.

Instead, she spotted a pair of grey and white boots out of the corner of one teary eye, and heard that same smooth voice from before, the one that had broken her free of her fury.

"You were possessed," it said simply from somewhere high above her.

Her hands fell lifeless to the ground at her sides and she barely managed to stave off another violent wave of nausea.

"…Possessed?" she echoed, her voice raw and hollow. Her eyes stared ahead, unblinking.

Kratos looked down at the woman through choppy bangs. His sword now rested comfortably in the scabbard at his hip.

"When certain humans fill with an intense anger such as yours," he continued calmly, "it attracts the demons of the underworld who thrive on hatred and pain. One of them had taken control of your body." He paused for a moment, waiting for any sort of reaction out of her. It never came. "The spell I performed earlier forced it out of you."

Sara swallowed a lump in her sandy throat and managed to shake her head. "But…I-"

"It was not your fault."

At that, she came back to herself for just long enough to notice that Iona, Tarja and Ko'tenda were missing. Her sorrow would have to wait for a little while. The whole reason for all of this was because she'd wanted to protect them, and here she was on her knees, wallowing in her own pity while the Desians did gods-knew-what to them.

She rose unsteadily to her feet and took in a deep breath, and the feeling of air rushing into her lungs seemed to awaken her body. She looked at the tracks in the dirt that the Desians' vehicles had left. They led out of the village, towards the mountains in the distance.

"I have to go after them," she said mostly to herself, and forced her eyes not to look down as she stepped carefully around the mayor's body. She strode forward at a walk at first, then a jog as feeling blossomed in her legs, and finally a sprint, her muscles crying out in joy with each step.

It had to be a rescue. It couldn't be a mere body count.

Kratos narrowed his eyes as he watched her go.

Behind him, Genis took a tentative step forward. For the moment, the shock of so much death seemed to have worn off enough for him to speak. "She… she killed all those people."

Lloyd was beside him, shaking his head and trying in vain not to look at all the bodies. There was uncertainty in his tone, as if he were speaking as much to himself as to his friend. "Genis, you heard what Kratos said. That woman was possessed. She couldn't help it."

"I've…heard of such a thing before," Raine added, her confident voice almost rid of all its shakes. "It can only happen to certain people, and under the most extreme of circumstances."

"I feel sorry for her," Colette said out of nowhere, surprising the others and earning several startled looks. Her soulful blue eyes were still shiny with tears, but they were filled with sincerity. "She must feel terrible about what happened. All she wanted was to protect her dragon friends." Her hands clasped at her throat and she lowered her gaze, then added quietly: "I think… if it's not too much trouble… could we help her?"

The four of them stared at her open-mouthed. After a moment, it was Kratos who spoke first, with a slight, resigned bow. "If that is your wish, Chosen One."

Lloyd squared his shoulders and nodded in agreement, that same look of determination touching his boyish features. "Yeah. It seems like she could use some help right now. Great idea, Colette."

The blonde girl allowed herself a moment of joy at Lloyd's praise before Genis' voice ruined it. "But…what if she goes crazy again? On _us_ this time?"

"I'll ensure she doesn't," Raine said thinly. "Now that I know what happened, I'll use my healing artes to keep us protected."

Admittedly, Lloyd had no clue as to what they were getting themselves into - but he would figure it out. He always did.

"All right. Let's go."


	2. Debitum (Debt)

Chapter Two

 _Debitum_

* * *

It hadn't taken Sara that long to catch up with the Desians, but nightfall was fast approaching. Somehow, even though she'd lived in Kozei for almost two decades, the Desians had managed to build some sort of fortress-slash-factory just a few miles outside of her village. It was constructed with technology she'd never seen before; glowing barriers of light served as walls that surrounded the inner core of buildings, which were made of metal instead of stone or wood. From somewhere inside rang the fearful, incessant roars of a chorus of dragons, echoing eerily throughout the mountains. The only entrance into the base was through what looked to be an electronically-powered gate along the south wall.

Sara hid herself behind a gathering of boulders several hundred feet from the same gate. The last few of those massive vehicles carrying Kozei's caged dragons were rumbling their way through the entrance. The cage in last place held the lethargic forms of Tarja and Ko'tenda, now awake but moving around slowly, as if their senses had been dulled from receiving those electric shocks.

Sara realized with a pang of both excitement and dread that she was going to have to take more Desian lives. Although they deserved their fate, it would be Sara's own mind in control this time. What had happened back at the village was one thing… but it was another situation entirely to take lives of one's own free will.

Steeling herself, she took in a breath and stepped out into the open, keeping her head low. Her steps were silent as she ran like a hunting wolf for the gated entrance, which was beginning to rumble closed now that all the cages had made it through.

Once inside, she pressed her back against the wall just to her left and took a moment to look over the area. Her face fell in shock.

The dragons that had been taken first were now chained to the ground with heavy metal restraints. Dozens of them, wrapping all around the perimeter of the inner factory, all of whom she'd known for most of her life, were struggling futilely to break free, their powerful muscles straining. Desians were everywhere as well; groups of four were surrounding each dragon, carrying with them a small box of faintly glowing gems.

Sara's eyes narrowed in confusion. What _were_ those things?

While three of the half-elves would hold out their swords towards the struggling creature, prodding at it and laughing at its cries of pain, the fourth one would gallantly approach the dragon's chest, grasp one of the gems, then reach out and forcefully shove the small stone beneath the scales just over its beating heart.

The four Desians would then turn and flee with strange, unsettling urgency. What Sara saw next was something that would be branded in her mind until the day she died.

The dragon's eyes went wide and it fell quiet instantly. The stone that had just been placed on its skin erupted in an intense light. Its tail and wings went rigid as a vicious spasm racked its muscles, and a violent, gurgling cry erupted from its gaping mouth as its scales melted into disgusting green flesh, starting at the gem on its chest and spreading all the way to its nostrils and the tip of its spiked tail like some instantaneous decimating disease. Its wings contracted into quivering deformed stubs, and that awful olive-green flesh covered its terrified eyes and sealed off its mouth, muffling its roar into an unholy and entirely unnatural scream.

When the transformation was complete, a mockery of the creature it once was now stood on misshapen legs, a network of mustard-yellow veins running along its bubbly skin and the gem at its chest emitting searing light. It reared its monstrous head back and a sound came from somewhere – its mutilated soul, probably, since it no longer had a mouth to cry out with.

Sara gripped the wall behind her for support and shook her head in disbelief. For a second, she thought that was the last of the process until the group of Desians returned to the flailing creature. The same half-elf who put that gem on its chest in the beginning now removed it, using a small knife to stab into its skin and pry the stone free. The once-dragon violently lashed its distorted head, but within moments, it seemed to lose all it strength and sank pitifully to the ground, every now and then emitting another one of those soulful cries. Each sound became weaker and weaker until it eventually stopped moving completely.

The Desian looked down at the glowing stone in his hand and grinned to his comrades.

"Another success. We'll have Lord Kvar worshiping the ground we walk on, boys!" The others shouted and laughed their agreement, a few of them patting him on the back. "Let's finish off the others. Quickly, now – the sooner they die, the sooner we get paid!"

They left the monster lying there as they walked off, just another worthless life lost to their cause.

So _this_ is what the Desians wanted the dragons for… to use their bodies to enhance those little gems, whatever they were. Stick one on a dragon, watch it go mad, then remove the gem and let the monster die. Repeat until all dragons have transformed and are dead.

Sara bit back a wave of tears, unable to take her eyes off the sickly, deformed body…

"Hey! What are _you_ doing here?"

Her gaze turned suddenly to a group of three Desians that had spotted her against the perimeter wall. All at once, they drew their swords and charged at her. Without hesitation, Sara returned their advance, ducking low to avoid the swipes of their blades. Her hand shot out and her claws tore at the thigh of one Desian, ripping away a large chunk of muscle and sending him stumbling backwards, moaning in pain. She whipped around to face the second one, blocking the swing of his sword with one arm and tearing across his chest with the spikes on the other. They went deep; not a fatal wound, but enough to knock his breath out and incapacitate him for the few seconds she needed to handle the third.

Now on his own, the final Desian looked down at her poised claws and hesitated, giving Sara the perfect opportunity to slash open his stomach. She turned to the first, with the wounded thigh, and rammed the blunt side of her arm into his head. His helmet went flying, and she hissed a curse, almost regretfully, as her claws raked down his face. The one with the bleeding chest seemed to realize what was good for him and took off towards the inner building, screaming for help.

Breathing heavily, Sara cursed under her breath as at least a dozen more Desians surrounded her, all ready for battle, swords pointed at her head. With her back against a wall, there was little she could do to escape, and as skilled as she was with her claws, there was no way she could taken on all of them without ending up impaled on a sword.

Suddenly, over the sea of helmeted heads, Sara saw Tarja and Ko'tenda across from the gated entrance. Both dragons were awake now, but still weak as they tried to fight off the Desians, who were locking more of those heavy metal restraints around their legs. Their long necks were arched high, looking anywhere for something or someone that would help.

A blaze ignited within her. Those two dragons had been more of a mother and father to her than her own parents ever had. The vast knowledge held within their centuries-old minds had shown her so many things about this world that she would never had known otherwise. And just like Iona, they had raised her proudly as one of their own.

Ko'tenda's searching gaze found her then, and his wise eyes instantly flashed with recognition. His great blue wings flared wide, and Desians all around him shouted in upset as he reared back on his powerful hind legs and released a jet of searing flames from his mouth, straight at the army that had her trapped.

A handful of the soldiers were incinerated on the spot while others caught fire, running around in a panic as they attempted to extinguish the flames. Ko'tenda crashed down on his front legs, creating a massive quake that caused several of them to lose their footing and tumble over.

The ancient beast looked straight in Sara's eyes and roared triumphantly. His mate, Tarja, did the same, her higher-pitched, ear-splitting cry throwing the remaining Desians off-balance.

Sara smiled and bowed her head in respect.

"Tarja, Ko… thank you."

And then she charged, straight into the fray, taking out Desian after Desian as she fought to help her friends. They kept coming at her, a steady, merciless onslaught; she hardly ever prayed, but now she found herself begging whoever was listening for the strength to defeat them all.

* * *

Lloyd came to an abrupt halt at the massive metal gate that prevented he and the others from entering the Desian base. It was obvious there was some sort of battle going on inside from all the shouts and roars from both dragons and Desians, and his instincts told him that he needed to get inside _now._

An explosion sent debris flying into the air as he turned to look back at his companions. "What do we do? We've got to get inside!"

Kratos brushed past him, approaching the gate with one hand holding his sword and the other extended palm-out in front of him. " _Lightning_." Electricity crackled in the air as the elements heeded his order. A powerful bolt shot from the sky and into the gate's metal surface with a deafening crack.

What appeared to be a small control panel off to the side began sparking, before it shorted out completely and began trailing smoke into the air. As a result, the gate's twin doors slowly began to retract.

Lloyd pumped a fist in the air and grinned. "Alright! That was awesome, Kratos!"

The mercenary looked at him sideways through narrowed eyes and tightened his grip on his sword's hilt. "Do not celebrate, Lloyd. All that's waiting on the other side is more death. I wouldn't be in such a hurry to go meet it if I were you."

Genis and Colette both flinched at the harsh words, but Raine allowed herself a small smile. Lloyd's face fell and he lowered his eyes to the ground, his shoulders slumping a little. "I…I'm sorry. You're right, Kratos. I guess I need to think before I talk…"

As usual, Kratos showed no emotion as he turned to face the opening gate. "At any rate, let's hurry."

The others nodded, and the five of them ran through the entrance as soon as it was wide enough.

They were met with complete chaos.

To the right, two large dragons were barely being chained and held down as they fought to break free. An army of Desians struggled to clasp metal restraints around the creatures' legs as fire burned all around them. Other dragons were in similar predicaments, many of which were lying motionless on the ground, their bodies slumped and deformed.

To the left was Sara, her back against a wall, her clothes torn and stained with crimson. Dead or dying Desians were littered all over, and she was gasping for breath as the remaining four soldiers fought to subdue her. They had her surrounded, and it looked as if she only had enough strength left to dodge their advances, much less fight back.

Lloyd drew his blades. "There she is!" He threw a glance back at the rest of the group as he ran towards the Desians. "Come on, we have to help her!"

Kratos followed the boy, both hands on his sword. Genis took a few steps forward, looked around once, and then began casting a spell. Raine stayed back with Colette, who was staring at all the madness with widened eyes as if she were overwhelmed at what she saw.

Sara felt darkness creep along the edges of her vision. Her tongue was going numb, too, weirdly. A warm blanket seemed to be slowly settling over her whole body. Somehow, she reflexively ducked at the shape of a sword swinging towards her head, causing it to miss by mere inches. She was vaguely aware of a pain in her side; she remembered the blade of a sword just nicking her skin at some point earlier.

Maybe, she thought as she slumped to her knees, it had been more than just a nick…

Suddenly, there were people in front of her. _People_ , not Desians. Surprise forced her eyes open, and through the slowly-clearing haze, she saw the forms of two men that appeared to be defending her.

One was younger, dressed in a red top and black pants, and he had a blade in each of his hands. Sara blinked once and watched him take out two of the Desians attacking her with startling skill for a boy his age, his twin swords slicing cleanly through air and then skin. In a corner of her mind, she wondered idly where he'd learned to fight like that.

The other person was that same mysterious man dressed in dark blue, the one who had claimed he'd freed her of that furious demon. Her eyes widened at the graceful, fluid way he used his blade, as if it were an extension of his arm. He kept one hand on the scabbard at his hip as he cut down the other pair of Desians, and once they'd fallen, he pointed his sword to the dirt and swung it sharply in a small arc, sending blood splattering to the ground already strewn with dead bodies.

To her side were three others, a small boy with silver hair, a tall woman with the same features, and a frightened blonde girl dressed in white.

It was that same group of people. For some reason, they'd come to help her. Or maybe they'd come to finish her off for themselves…she wasn't quite sure which it was yet.

Sara grimaced as she rose precariously to her feet, but as soon as her legs were forced to bear the weight of her body, they shook violently and she tumbled forward, with much less grace than she would've preferred, and the only thing that stopped her from face-planting to the ground was the sudden presence of something strong and solid beneath her arm.

She turned her startled gaze to the serious one of the auburn-haired swordsman beside her…the one with his arm around her shoulders.

"Don't overdo it," he chided.

Sara instantly felt her strength returning, and she realized with a pang of annoyance that he'd used another spell on her. She frowned at him. Who did he think he was, to go around and cast magic on perfect strangers...?

"Kratos, look!" the boy in red cried suddenly, pointing with one of his blades at Tarja and Ko'tenda… just as a Desian approached each one of them and shoved another one of those little gems beneath the scarred scales at their chests.

Sara's heart stopped. " _NO_!"

She tore herself away from the swordsman at her side, frantically sprinting towards the Desians, and then past them as they fled inside. She skidded to a halt before Tarja and Ko's towering forms just in time to see the transformation begin.

The first of her tears welled when the gems began glowing. They filled her eyes, blurring her vision as the same awful olive-colored flesh spread over the dragons' beautiful scales. Then they fell freely down her face when Ko'tenda's wings shrank to those tiny misshapen stubs, followed quickly by Tarja's, and a sob ripped through her aching chest at the last sight of their eyes, gone mindless with pain, before they were swallowed up by the plague of green tissue. She cried their names as the pulsing yellow veins grew all along their corrupt bodies, and finally fell to her knees when the two of them sang a duet of demented screams into the vast night sky.

Time stopped. Reality plunged into her chest and tore out her heart. She stared up at their deformed heads, sobbing uncontrollably – great, powerful spasms that tore from her lungs.

Colette was starting to cry, too, one of her delicate hands gripping Lloyd's pendant for comfort. Raine and Genis watched silently with expressions of disbelief, as if what was happening before them didn't seem real. Lloyd had tears shining in his eyes as well. Kratos sheathed his sword and lowered his head in respect.

Sara didn't know how long she stayed there on her knees. After what could've been seconds, hours, or days, she was slowly brought to her senses by the knowledge that, while transformed into these monsters, Tarja and Ko'tenda were still alive. And from the way their misshapen chests heaved for air they couldn't possibly inhale and the sound of those breathless screams, it was obvious they were in pain.

Rain suddenly began to fall. Thunder roared overhead, drowning out their cries. Rising to her feet, Sara closed her eyes and accepted her task. It was the least she could do, since she had failed so miserably at everything else.

The small group of travelers who'd helped her watched in silence as she slowly approached the auburn-haired man she now knew as Kratos. Her steps were slow and stilted. Her head was lowered, her shoulders twitching. She looked an absolute mess, covered in streaks of mud and blood, both hers and that of many others. She stopped just before him, and only barely managed to raise her gaze to his.

"You have…a fine blade," she said, her voice like shards of glass in her throat.

His intense garnet eyes centered on her desolate face. He remained silent. Raindrops fell from the tips of his spiked hair, plunking quietly on the bloodied ground.

Without a word, he drew his sword and offered it to her hilt-first.

Sara's claws, having been used far too much for today, now retracted into her arm-guards. She reached out with a tentative hand and took hold of the sword, her arm wavering a little as its surprisingly hefty weight settled into her grip.

"Thank you," she whispered sincerely, so only he could hear. He nodded to her, but she was already facing the other way, walking with purposeful steps back to the spot where she had been kneeling a moment before. His sword looked almost comically massive as she held it beside her in one arm.

Lloyd turned to face the mercenary with wide eyes. He'd never seen Kratos allow anyone to _touch_ his sword, much less lend it to anyone. But one thing the teen had learned so far in his travels with the mercenary was that he _always_ knew what he was doing, even if everyone else didn't. Lloyd swallowed hard and returned his gaze to Sara, who stood still as a statue before the two writhing once-dragons.

"This wasn't how I pictured it," Sara said softly to the creatures before her, to the group of people behind her, to the gods above her…to anyone who was listening. "I always had it in my head that I'd die first. That's what I get for thinking, huh?"

Her voice cracked, and she flinched as the monster that used to be Ko'tenda let out another hellish scream-from-nowhere, straining at his chains with deteriorated muscles.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Ko, Tarja… I promise you, I'll spend the rest of my time in this world trying to make up for what I've done today."

Tarja screamed and tried to charge. Her head lashed violently from side to side, but Sara remained motionless, a few tears – or were they raindrops? – dripping from her chin, tinted scarlet.

"I just hope that when we meet again, I'll have made up for all of it." She closed her eyes. Held her breath. "...Forgive me!"

It was over in two clean thrusts, straight through the spinal cord – instant, merciful, painless death. Their shrieks quieted; the twisted forms of the two once-dragons sank to the ground almost peacefully, as if finally finding and accepting eternal rest.

Colette bowed her head over clasped hands, closing her eyes and chanting a breathless prayer.

The sword slipped from Sara's hand and impaled into the muddy ground. She dropped onto her hands and knees, the weight of what she'd just done weighing her down impossibly. She felt the rain pounding onto her back, each drop's impact sending tiny vibrations through the hollowness of her lungs. She tried to breathe, but air couldn't seem to make it into her throat. She tried to think, too, but a smoky haze had crept into her mind.

And as she collapsed to her side and rolled slowly onto her back, the last thing she thought she saw through the rain were the ethereal silhouettes of two dragons, flying side-by-side into the stars, before the darkness overtook her completely.

* * *

Unlike the other dead monsters still lying morosely in the mud, the bodies of what were once those proud beasts began fading away. Little by little, every inch of their mutated flesh became transparent, and in only a few seconds, they had disappeared completely… leaving behind two small, gald-size gems, glowing faintly in the falling rain.

"She… gave them a good death," Colette said quietly, drawing the attention of Raine, Genis and Lloyd. Her voice had lost its frightened edge, and now rang with a calm, wise clarity. "All the others…they have to stay. They can't go anywhere anymore. But, by killing them now, she allowed their mana to return to Martel." A smile touched her pale lips. "They will be reborn as the trees, the wind, the clouds, and the rain…living on forever as mana."

Lloyd sheathed his twin blades as he approached Sara's unconscious body, looking down at her with a frown. "I…I wonder if she knows that." His eyes roamed over her freckled face, and now that it was washed of the streaks of blood, it looked so normal. Almost…kind. "I hope she does."

Kratos reclaimed his sword from the ground, flung it once to clean it of some of the mud, and returned it to its scabbard. He stared at the pair of Exspheres lying at his feet, one a grayish-blue, and the other a pale green. After a moment, he bent down and retrieved both of them, noting as his fingers touched their smooth surface how unnaturally warm they seemed. He placed the stones carefully in a small pocket at his hip.

"Professor," Lloyd said urgently, crouching to his knees to get a closer look at Sara's side. There was one torn part of her tunic that hadn't been washed clean of the blood; the stain seemed to be getting larger with each passing moment. "I think she's hurt."

Raine trotted up beside Lloyd with Colette and Genis behind her, and extended her staff out before her as the large crystal on top began glowing brightly. After a swift, clinical gaze, she nodded as the light diminished. "She must have been injured when fighting off the Desians. That's probably why she fainted – from blood loss."

Before Lloyd got a chance to speak again, Kratos was already bending over and gathering Sara's limp frame effortlessly into his arms. She made a soft noise of protest at the sudden movement, but still didn't regain consciousness.

"There is a rest house not far from here," he said, looking at the four of them over the top of Sara's lolling head. "We can see to her injuries there. We must leave this place quickly. It is too dangerous for the Chosen. More Desians could return at any moment."

If he had any problems carrying Sara's weight, they didn't show as he headed towards the main gate, his stride still as smooth and confident as ever. Lloyd was happy to leave, too - although he probably wouldn't forget this place for a long time.

* * *

Sara awoke to two feelings she didn't expect: a soft, comfortable bed beneath her and a throbbing ache in her left side. She cracked open her eyes, was met with the blinding morning sunlight, and instantly shut them again, hissing at the spear of pain it sent searing through her head. She rubbed her face tiredly and took in a deliberate lungful of clean air. At the shift of her chest, she noticed that she'd been stripped down to her undershirt and small grey skirt. There was a large bandage wrapped around her midriff, holding her wounded side tight and easing the ache somewhat.

All in all, other than post-sleep grogginess and that injury, she actually felt decent.

Until glimpses of everything that occurred the day before shot through her like a spray of bullets.

A merciless wave of nausea squeezed her stomach in an iron fist. Sara held one hand across her mouth and retched, thankful that there hadn't been anything inside her to come up. She swallowed hard and forced down the bile in her throat, wiping her suddenly watery eyes with the back of her hand.

"Dammit," she muttered, feeling hopeless all over again.

Lloyd turned from the window he'd been staring out of at the quiet sound of her voice. When he saw her moving, his face brightened and he got up from the wooden chair he'd been sitting in.

"Oh, you're awake," he said amiably. He walked to the nightstand beside her bed and poured a glass of water from a metal pitcher he'd set there earlier, extending it out to her in one hand. "Would you like some water?"

Sara turned to look at him, still squinting at the bright light coming in from the window. No big surprise – it was the same boy from back at the Desian fortress who'd defended her. A droplet of water trickled down the glass he held, and damned if it didn't look like the most delicious glass of water she'd ever seen. Her throat felt like sandpaper. She'd never been so thirsty.

Sitting up slowly, she sized the boy up out of the corner of her eye. He looked to be in his late teens, dressed in a rather archaic red top with suspenders that were attached to loose black pants. His thick chestnut hair was wisped to one side as if he'd spent too long out in the wind, and there was a little smile on his face that was just as friendly as his voice. His eyes held her gaze for a moment longer than anything else – they were big and brown and trusting, filled with that blissful ignorance of youth.

He was harmless. Confident she wasn't going to ingest some sort of deadly poison, she reached out slowly and took the glass from him, noticing with curious, narrowed eyes the gem on the back of his hand.

It looked just like the ones the Desians had used on the dragons. How…interesting.

"Thank you," she said softly, and had to suppress a moan of pleasure as the cool water slid down her throat. She downed the entire glass in a few monstrous gulps.

Lloyd's face brightened even more. Once she'd finished, he held out a hand to her in a greeting. "My name's Lloyd."

A few awkward seconds ticked by as she stared at his hand, and the smile slowly tumbled from his face when she didn't take it. Her gaze shifted down to the empty glass of water in her lap, and he gave up and let his hand drop. His shoulders slumped, but he kept those big hopeful eyes trained on her.

"Oh…that's okay. I understand," he said, to Sara's immense surprise. Perhaps he wasn't such a naïve boy after all. That relentless, painfully-friendly smile returned his face again. "Well, can you at least tell me your name?"

Sara thought of her sister then, remembering the similar way she would handle their old, grumpy grandfather when he would get angry at them for little things. Just be happy until they can't take it anymore. It had worked every time.

A smile ghosted across her lips at the warm memory. "It's Sara," she said, hoping she wouldn't regret it later.

Lloyd nodded. "Nice to meet you, Sara. Can I…get you some more water?"

Why was he being so _nice?_ It almost seemed too good to be true. It made her a little wary - and overwhelmingly grateful. She cleared her throat and bit back those stupid, stubborn tears. "If you…wouldn't mind."

As he took her glass and happily poured more water into it, she saw that gem on his hand again, glinting in the sunlight, and her curiosity got the best of her. "Excuse me, um, Lloyd…what is that on your hand?"

He jerked in pouring the water, causing some of it to run over the side of the glass and pitter onto the wood floor. She'd hit either a very sore or very secretive subject.

His back stiffened as he stuttered. "Uh…well..."

"It's called an Exsphere," said a low, smooth voice as the door to the small room opened. Kratos entered, regally, as always, apparently having been listening in on their somewhat stilted conversation. His garnet eyes scanned Sara's torso up and down in one quick swipe, making her feel naked at the way he so intensely evaluated her for any sign of further injury. Okay… weird. She widened her eyes a little and subconsciously crossed her arms over her chest, hoping the heat she felt in her cheeks wasn't showing.

"Hey, Kratos," Lloyd said, obviously relieved that he'd stepped in before Lloyd had to say anything too revealing. Sara noticed with an inward smirk how Lloyd's back straightened in the mercenary's presence; Lloyd clearly admired the man quite a bit, whether or not he wanted to admit it.

"Um…Sara's awake," Lloyd managed.

Kratos let the door swing closed behind him. "So, your name is Sara," he said evenly. "With how exhausted you were and the amount of blood you lost, you're lucky to still be alive."

Sara huffed a sardonic laugh and lowered her eyes. Somehow, she could tell that he was still looking at her, as if his stare had a physical presence. "While I appreciate your help, I don't exactly feel lucky to be alive right now."

The two men remained silent at that, Lloyd looking at her with empathy, Kratos with the same terse expression that she had a feeling he gave to everyone. After a moment, Sara began to feel stupid for saying something so utterly… well, _dramatic._ They had saved her life, for whatever reason. She shouldn't be bitching to her saviors about how melancholy she felt.

Looking off to the side, she sat up a little more, wincing when her bruised ribs shifted the wrong way. "S-Sorry. That was super depressing. I shouldn't have said that. I'm grateful you saved me." She cleared her throat, wishing she had about a thousand more of those glasses of water. "Anyway…what's an Exsphere? Also, where am I?"

"All of that will be explained later," Kratos said, finally turning those piercing eyes of his somewhere other than her face as he glanced out the window. "I've prepared breakfast. You may join us, if you'd like."

The mention of food was all Lloyd needed to bolt out of the room, practically leaving a trail of drool in his wake. Once outside, Sara heard him say excitedly, "Awesome! I _love_ omelettes!"

Sara watched him go, baffled at the way his attention could shift from one thing to the next with so little provocation. What a weird kid…

She peered apprehensively at Kratos. He stood at the foot of her bed, eyeing her patiently beneath his thick spiked hair, as if waiting for her answer.

"Um, thanks, but I'm not really that-"

 _Grrroooowllllp,_ her stomach finished for her. She held one hand over her abdomen and glared down at it. "…hungry."

His unreadable expression never faltering, the swordsman stepped up beside her – impossibly quietly, she noted, as if he were walking on air – and offered his hand.

"Just in case," he said, and she thought she heard just the smallest hint of amusement in his confident voice.

Sara stared at the offered appendage for a moment, taking note of the fingerless blue gloves he wore and the calluses on the pads of his long fingers – from a lifetime of swinging that sword of his, no doubt. The ease in the way he stood there, his strong legs slightly parted, his shoulders straight but relaxed, told her that he was someone she could trust. For the moment, anyway.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and tested her weight on them; they seemed fine, her muscles responding readily to the new demand. It was her stupid head that started spinning, all the blood seeping out of it in one deafening rush. Grey dots danced before her eyes and the nausea came back with a vengeance. Consciousness began slipping away again, one second at a time…

" _D-Dammit-_ " Instinctively, she threw out one hand and grasped his to save herself. Kratos held her steady for a few seconds, until the ashen tinge to her skin faded into its normal sun-kissed tone and the high-pitched ringing in her ears receded to a soft whine. When she could see something other than a gray haze, she jerked her hand from his and managed to look up at him despite the sting of embarrassment. She instantly regretted this, because that peculiar little quirk of a smile was back on his lips again, just like the time he'd healed her yesterday, and it spoke to her so clearly in soundless words: _Told you so._

What a _bastard_.

She attempted to throw him an angry glance but it came off as more of a grimace as she walked a few steps towards the door, her aching side screaming in pain. Kratos opened it for her, holding his arm out to lead the way like a perfect gentleman.

Great, an attention-deficit teenager and a smartass swordsman had saved her life. Stepping into the morning sun, she couldn't _wait_ to meet the others.


	3. Gratia (Gratitude)

Chapter Three

 _Gratia_

At the first sight of her, the 'others' stared at Sara like she'd grown another head. She liked to think it was because they were surprised to see her alive and walking after only one night of rest, but in all likelihood it probably had more to do with the bloodbath they'd seen her single handedly create yesterday.

She didn't blame them. Such treatment was appropriate for a mass murderer.

The small boy dressed in blue stopped mid-sip in his kirima juice to give her a suspicious, calculating glare that was far too old-looking to be on his young face. The silver-haired woman with the staff squared her shoulders defensively. But both Lloyd and the blonde girl he sat next to were giving her warm, welcoming smiles.

She wondered why a group with such varying personalities were travelling together; perhaps, with Kratos' unwavering neutrality, they cancelled eachother out and created a balance.

As she stared apprehensively at the grassy ground, Lloyd stood up from his spot beside Colette and held an arm out, gesturing to her as if she were up for auction.

"Hey, everyone, this is Sara." The sunlight made his eyes shine so vividly that they were almost hard to look at when he turned to face her. "Sara, this is Genis," he pointed to the younger boy in blue, whose expression softened only slightly at the mention of his name in what she guessed was his version of a smile. "And this is his sister Professor Raine Sage," another point, this time to the silver-haired woman with the staff, who seemed too intelligent for her own good. "And _this_ is Colette," he finished quickly, as if he couldn't wait to introduce the blonde-haired girl who was _bowing_ to her for some incredulous reason.

So, Genis, Raine and Colette. Sara swallowed hard and forced herself to look at the three of them.

"Thank you for helping me," she said raggedly. "I owe each of you my life. I'm really sorry for causing you so much trouble."

"Oh, you weren't any trouble, Mrs. Sara," Colette said as she stood up, nodding her head in earnest to accent each of her heartfelt words. "We couldn't just leave you there all by yourself. Really, we wanted to help. So don't feel bad, okay?"

"Yeah," Lloyd added emphatically. "Colette wanted to help you. That's why we followed you in the first place. We couldn't just stand back and watch the Desians take away all of those dragons without a fight."

Between their inexorable kindness in the face of everything she'd done, Sara started to lose it. The tears welling in her eyes spilled onto her freckled cheeks, and she quickly wiped them away with the heel of her hand, hopefully before anyone would notice. This _had_ to be too good to be true, now. What had she done lately to deserve such warm treatment?

"I guess the one you _really_ need to thank is Kratos," Colette intoned cheerfully. "He carried you all the way here from Kozei."

Sara's eyes flew open wide. She turned to the swordsman, gaping openly in a mix of shock and humiliation. This would further explain the little smirk he'd given her earlier when she'd almost passed out, _again._

But this time there was nothing demeaning in his expression – rather, nothing in his expression at all – as he stared back at her silently, a soft gust of wind swaying his thick hair.

Lloyd took a seat beside Colette on the grass. Lying next to an iron frying pan, which was still steaming a little, there were two plates that had the world's most delicious-smelling omelettes on top of them. One was already half-eaten; Lloyd set that one in his lap and handed the other plate to Sara. "Here you go, Sara. Kratos makes the best omelettes in Sylvarant."

Bewildered, Sara numbly reached out to take hold of the plate. Sunny yellow eggs stared up at her. After a moment, she realized she should probably sit down and eat, or else she'd come across as extremely rude. Her body agreed, with the way her stomach kept rumbling and the shakiness that hadn't completely left her legs yet, and she halfway sat and halfway collapsed to the soft ground. Kratos followed a moment later, although with much more grace.

Sara forced a smile onto her face. It looked fragile and broken, like shattered glass. "Um…where is 'here,' exactly?"

It was Raine who spoke this time, in a serene voice that sounded exactly like she looked. "This is a small inn just west of the Ossa Trail. We're only a few miles from Kozei."

"Not that she'll ever be going back," Genis muttered, one hand to his chin, absently stabbing at his omelette with a knife.

The fork Sara had just picked up clattered noisily to her plate, sending the bit of egg on the prongs tumbling to the ground. Lloyd and Colette looked up at her suddenly, their eyes wide as they glanced from her lowered head to Genis and back again.

"Genis," Raine hissed, raising her hand as if to slap him. "That's a terrible thing to say. Apologize right now."

"For what?" the boy challenged, his tone hushed but defiant. "I'm just stating the obvious. You saw her kill those people, too."

Sara dropped her plate entirely. She abruptly stood, somehow, her bangs hiding her eyes, her face a stony mask.

"Excuse me," she said quietly, and headed for to the inn, leaving the omelette untouched.

Her steps were heavy and deliberate; she needed to concentrate on where her feet were going, or else lose track of them in all the chaos echoing in her head. Whispers continued behind her back, and though they were softly spoken, they thundered in her ears louder than Ko'tenda's last cries.

"Dammit, Genis, what was that for? You know it wasn't her fault!" Lloyd. Defending her, just like before.

"If she wouldn't have gotten so out of control in the first place, she would never have been possessed!" Genis, in acidic recalcitrance.

"What if your neighbors were giving Marble to the Desians, huh? Or Raine? Or any of us? You would be just as angry!" Lloyd, once more.

The last thing she heard was Genis' unforgiving silence as she slammed the door behind her.

* * *

"Genis," Raine scolded, shaking her head in exasperation. "You must learn to put yourself in someone else's shoes before you say such things. I know she's a stranger, but everyone has a right to be treated well."

For the moment, the silver-haired boy seemed that he'd gotten the message. He lowered his vibrant eyes to the ground and continued to poke at his breakfast.

"Yeah, whatever," he said hesitantly. "…But I still don't like her."

"Well," Colette chimed in, eternally optimistic. "I think that's just because we don't know her very well yet. You didn't like Lloyd either when you first met him, and now you two are best friends, right?"

"This is _different_."

The Chosen's hopeful face fell as she looked down at her hands, and Lloyd surged with sudden anger at the way Genis could so efficiently and carelessly obliterate Colette's happiness.

"You know, Genis," the teen seethed, gripping his fork so hard that it bent in the middle. "Sometimes you can be such a- "

Kratos stood suddenly. He looked over their heads and into the distant mountains, his face a mask of unreadable stoicism as he refused to acknowledge the presence of all four of them. Turning around, the pointed ends of his dark blue cloak trailed behind him as he followed Sara's path towards the inn.

Iselia's group of travellers all finished their meal in silence.

* * *

Kratos was entirely unsurprised to find Sara readying to leave. She had dressed herself in the layers of outerwear Raine had removed the night before, both to mend her wound and make an attempt to clean the blood and mud tarnishing the cloth. She was slipping the sleeveless teal duster on over her shoulders, her back to him, moving gingerly to avoid pestering her bruised ribs. The way the garment swayed from her back made the intricately-designed dragons embroidered along her spine seem like they were taking off, their wings beating in-sync with her every move.

She paused for only a second at his intrusion, but carried on a moment later, either too reluctant to acknowledge his presence or intent on ignoring him pointedly. Either way, he didn't really care.

Her gloves were back and her duster buttoned. She risked glancing at him as she turned to sit on the bed and pull on her boots with no small amount of difficulty, though she tried to hide it.

"I have to go," she whispered.

If he hadn't been blessed with such sharp hearing, he would've missed it entirely.

Kratos wasted no time in approaching her, his steps purposeful, and she looked up at him in surprise as he held one hand out to her, right at eye level. In his palm were two small, glassy stones, glowing faintly.

Sara's mouth fell open. "Those are…"

"What remains of your dragons." When Sara narrowed her eyes at him in contempt, he continued before she could speak again. "These are Exspheres. They contain the life force of the beings they matured from; in this case, your dragons."

Sara stood, reaching out a tentative hand to take them, but pulled back quickly when his words registered. "'Life force?'"

"Exspheres are powerful devices that, when properly equipped, raise the wearer's abilities to his or her full potential. They are made by feeding off the very essence of a living thing – absorbing its thoughts, memories, and mana." As if agreeing with him, the pair of gems flashed more brightly for a moment, then returned to their dim glow. "That is why the Desians wanted Kozei's dragons – to enhance these Exspheres."

Sara continued to stare at the stones, but lowered her eyes a moment later. "I knew it was for something like this. The damn Desians; it's just like…" she trailed off, obviously pained by some sort of memory that he had no intention of exploring. He waited with eternal patience, observing the play of emotions on her face like some melancholy motion picture. He was reminded slightly of Lloyd, and the similar way with which the teen was so incapable of hiding his feelings.

"You're saying," Sara said finally, looking into his gaze with renewed confidence, "that Tarja and Ko's memories…their _lives_ are in these things?"

Kratos nodded, the movement swaying burgundy hair across matching eyes.

Hope illuminated her features. He watched in silence as she hesitantly plucked the gems from his open palm.

The reaction was instant; as soon as she took them into her hand, the Exspheres erupted in light. Sara gasped, her eyes flying open wide. Instantly there were images flitting through her mind, none of which _belonged_ to her, but a few that contained a vision of her within them. She noticed that it was the visions of her that stood out the most, crystal clear among the remaining blurred chaos, and it didn't take her long to realize that she was seeing glimpses of Tarja and Ko'tenda's memories.

 _Yes,_ the Exspheres seemed to echo in unison, in a language that wasn't a language at all. She had to choke back a sob at a sudden flood of warm comfort, leaving her with the overwhelming sensation that the dragons had truly cared for her as one of their own, in their own ancient, often misunderstood manner.

It was all over in a few seconds, but the sense of love she had felt would last infinitely longer, its searching tendrils finding and ensnaring her heart, squeezing in a painful yet breathtakingly beautiful way.

"Oh, gods, it's them." She held her closed hand against her heart. "It really is them. They're still in here…"

Kratos remained expressionless as she raised her eyes to his. She took a step closer to his rigid frame, brazen in her gratitude. "You…saved these for me. You knew that…If you hadn't, then…I-I wouldn't have…"

Words were clearly not her strong suit at this moment; she eventually stopped speaking altogether and took a second to gather herself, in some sort of attempt to make herself appear less stupid.

"Kratos. Thank you."

He nodded to her, and was just about to speak, but a sudden chorus of screams from outside cut him short.

"What was that?" Sara asked, quickly putting the pair of Exspheres in one of the pockets on her belt.

The mercenary didn't bother answering, and instead threw open the door to dash outside. Sara followed him instantly, but instead of brandishing her claws and preparing for a fight, after a few steps, she came to a halt on the grass and looked up to the sky, smiling brightly.

Lloyd's group, among several other travelers that had decided to rest at the inn, were all looking upwards and pointing to something in the clear, cloudless sky. The screams had come from a group of women dressed in rather high-society attire, all of whom were now running towards the lobby door as if being chased by some ravenous monster.

Sara had to admit that, for those who weren't accustomed, the form of a flying dragon could come across as frightening. But to her, there was only power and elegance.

Her smile widened into a grin, and she ran towards the flying creature, passing Kratos, Lloyd and the others as if they didn't exist. As the dragon descended, she held her arms in the air – or, rather, arm, due to her injury – waving it back and forth.

"Iona!" The violet dragon returned Sara's cry with one of her own. Iona's massive beating wings created a miniature whirlwind as she landed gracefully before Sara, touching down on her hind legs first before lowering onto her front feet. Sara happily threw her arms around the dragon's neck, hugging her as best she could despite being unable reach all the way around. Though Iona was only nineteen years old – a toddler in dragon terms – she was still massive compared to a human, standing nearly thirteen feet tall from paws to horns. She greeted Sara with a high-pitched cry, flapping her wings excitedly.

Lloyd, Colette, Genis and Raine all watched the scene, dumbfounded, as were the dozen or so travellers who had before been fleeing in fear. Lloyd stood, grabbing Colette's hand and tugging on it to stand her up, and he smiled at the blonde girl as he nodded in the dragon's direction. Her eyes widened for a moment as she considered what he was suggesting, but then she grinned, running beside him excitedly, her long hair streaming out behind her in waves of gold.

"You found me!" Sara said to the purple dragon, petting the scales in between its large eyes. "I'm so glad you're safe. I was worried about you."

Iona let out a sound that sounded almost apologetic. Sara smiled at that, but her face fell soon after when she remembered why Iona had to flee in the first place. She lowered her gaze to the ground as one hand absently ran up and down the dragon's long snout.

"Listen, Iona…It's just us now. All the others…and your mom, and dad…they're…"

Iona bumped Sara with her nose and released a long, low call filled with sadness. Her wings slackened, drooping low enough that their tips brushed the grassy ground.

"I knew you could feel it," Sara said softly, letting her hand drop to her side. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save them. I…there were just too many Desians. I couldn't…" she trailed off, holding one hand over her eyes.

Iona lowered her massive head to Sara's level, and with incredible tenderness for a creature of her size and strength, nuzzled her scaly nose against Sara's back as if to say, 'it's okay.' Sara turned and leaned against Iona's neck, smiling faintly. "Thank you, my friend. You're…all I've got left now."

"Wow…that's amazing!"

Sara turned around to see Lloyd and Colette standing behind her, both of their youthful faces filled with a mixture of awe and enthusiasm.

"That dragon can understand you when you talk!" Colette continued, wringing her hands together excitedly. "I…didn't know that dragons could be so smart."

"Iona is…different," Sara said hesitantly, refusing to meet the girl's gaze. One hand fished through a pocket on her belt and pulled out the pair of Exspheres Kratos had given her. "So were her parents," she added sullenly.

Lloyd's eyes widened as he took a step closer to her. "Hey, it's those Exspheres! You're going to equip them, right? I've never seen what a dragon's Exsphere can do."

"'Equip…?'" Sara echoed, slowly blinking in confusion. Behind her, Iona let out a small sound as her wings fluttered.

"Well," Lloyd went on, holding a hand to his chin pensively. "You would need Key Crests first. Equipping an Exsphere without a Key Crest is dangerous. It can make you really sick."

Sara's gaze fell from his hand and down to the grass. Her fingers closed loosely around the stones in her palm. "…Right," she said softly, and Lloyd and Colette exchanged glances at the sudden sadness in her voice. She cleared her throat and continued a moment later: "Okay, so where do I find some Key Crests, then?"

"I noticed a travelling merchant when we first arrived," Kratos announced suddenly, approaching the three of them with the same confident, calm stride as usual. He stopped beside Lloyd, giving the boy a quick, emotionless glance before looking up at Sara. "Key Crests aren't exactly commonplace, but perhaps he has some in his stock."

Iona turned to stare at the mercenary. Craning her neck back, her slitted eyes locked onto him with a startling intensity. She shifted from one clawed foot to the other, a low growl rumbling in her broad chest as wisps of steam poured from her nostrils.

Kratos narrowed his eyes just a fraction, but remained motionless. Sara looked up at the creature and placed a steadying hand on Iona's quivering neck.

"Easy, girl," she cooed, eyeing Kratos somewhat curiously. "I'm sorry. She doesn't seem to like you much."

"It's fine," he said flatly. The growl continued to vibrate in Iona's chest as he turned towards the inn. "If you want to use your Exspheres, I suggest you follow me."

Both Iona and the trio of humans watched him walk off, Lloyd in distaste, Colette in confusion, and Sara in skepticism. Gradually, the dragon's threatening growl faded into silence, though her spiked tail still swished anxiously across the grassy ground.

"I wonder why Iona didn't like him," Colette asked innocently.

"Probably because he's a big jerk," Lloyd retorted, crossing his arms. "Acting like he always knows everything… Would it kill him to just be nice for once?"

Sara glanced at the gems in her palm and frowned. A jerk wouldn't have saved these for her. Plus, he'd carried her all the way to the inn when he could've just as easily left her there for the Desians.

"He's right about the merchant, at least," she said, glancing up at Lloyd and Colette. "I'd like to see if he has any Key Crests. Iona, why don't you find yourself some breakfast and roost somewhere for a little while? The people here are afraid of you, it seems."

A glint of amusement flashed in Iona's otherworldly eyes, and Lloyd swore the dragon's lips curled up in a smile for the briefest of moments.

"I'll be sure to summon you if I need you, don't worry. Take care of yourself, my friend."

The beat of Iona's wings sent air gusting hard enough to almost bowl Colette over, and Lloyd quickly reached out a hand to steady her before she toppled to the ground.

By the time Colette was standing solidly on her own two feet, Sara had already made it halfway back to the inn, the tail of her teal duster swaying behind her in the last wisps of wind. Lloyd could still hear wings beating somewhere above him as he headed after her, tugging on Colette's wrist to encourage the Chosen to follow.

"Wasn't that cool?" Lloyd beamed, grinning from ear to ear. Colette instantly caught his contagious smile as she nodded her golden head, trotting to keep up with his energetic stride. "That's the first time I've seen a dragon up-close," he went on excitedly. "This journey just keeps getting better!"

Colette was thankful he didn't see the way the smile tumbled from her face for the briefest of seconds. When he looked at her for a response, his russet eyes shining with life, her delicate face was once again the picture of happiness.

"Yeah," she agreed, although her grin wasn't quite as wide as it had been before.

* * *

The merchant's table was strewn with a completely random assortment of items - from strangely-shaped rocks to old, frayed paintings. A fine layer of dust coated everything in a slight brown. The inn's outdoor lobby was empty except for the sale display and a few chairs surrounding a small table, and the pergola overhang provided a welcome respite from the early afternoon sun.

Triet was written all over the merchant himself - he appeared middle-aged with a long pepper beard and skin that had seen too many desert days. His pale grey eyes brightened as Kratos approached, with Sara limping behind him. A small, shaggy dog beneath the table gave the air an experimental sniff before settling its head back on the floor with a disinterested sigh.

"Welcome, friends!" the merchant said cheerfully, rising from his chair and spreading his arms wide. "I am Ramut, and I bring treasures from all over southern Sylvarant." One leathery hand idly adjusted the worn beige covering on his head. "Is there anything specific I can help you find?"

Kratos eyed the sale display carefully. "We are looking for a pair of Key Crests."

"Key Crests," Ramut echoed. "What might those be?"

Sara halted beside Kratos in front of the table, wincing a little as she straightened her back. "They're these little golden emblem thingies used with Exspheres."

"They're Dwarven technology!" Lloyd added proudly, trotting up towards Kratos and Sara with Colette in tow. "I was raised by a dwarf. I've seen them made before and even helped make a few myself." He smiled at Sara, pointing his own thumb at his chest. "I'll know if they're the real thing or not."

Sara returned his smile kindly. "Thank you, Lloyd."

"Oh yes," Ramut began with an air of excitement. Instead of selecting any of the items from his crowded table, he instead opened a canvas bag strapped at his side and began digging through it. The previously aloof dog rose slowly onto its short, stubby legs and meandered towards Lloyd to sit at his feet and stare up at him expectantly. Lloyd didn't notice, but Colette did, and her face brightened with childlike excitement as she reached down to scratch its scruffy ears.

"You were raised by a dwarf?" Sara asked curiously, glancing at the boy in red. "I didn't know there were any dwarves left around Sylvarant."

Lloyd shook his head. "There aren't, really. For all I know, Dirk is the only one. He's an amazing craftsman. He can make statues, jewelry, even weapons and swords."

Ramut mumbled to himself as he was still attempting to find something in his bag. He reached out and swept an arm's worth of items to the edge of the table to clear a spot, and instead dumped out the bag's contents there for easier access. Kratos frowned and sighed impatiently.

"Speaking of swords, Lloyd," Sara continued. "Why do you use two instead of just one? I've never seen anybody fight quite like you."

Lloyd straightened his back. "If one sword is good, two swords is twice as good. It's just math."

For some reason, Sara and Kratos were both giving him the same disbelieving look. Lloyd narrowed his eyes, squaring his shoulders defensively. "Wh-what? Why are you guys looking at me like that?"

"Aha!" Ramut exclaimed finally, beaming as he raised his hand out to the group of travellers. In his palm were two star-shaped, metallic Key Crests, and although they weren't quite as polished as Lloyd's or Colette's, they looked similar enough to serve the same purpose. "You're in luck. I acquired these just yesterday from a group of Gypsies near the Ossa Trail."

"Yes!" Lloyd said excitedly. "Those are Key Crests, all right. Would you mind if I inspected them?"

"Not at all."

"What do you think, Lloyd?" Sara asked with genuine wonderment. Kratos was beside her, silently following her gaze towards Lloyd's hands. Even Colette paused in petting her new furry friend to wait for Lloyd's word.

Raising both Crests before his eyes, Lloyd turned them back and forth several times. He brought one very close to his face, nearly poking him in the nose, and then for whatever reason, he opened his mouth and bit down on its edge with his front teeth.

"These are grade-A," he said at length. "Made from the best inhibitor ore, and with - "

"We will take them," Kratos interrupted quickly, turning his intense gaze back to the merchant. "Name your price."

Lloyd frowned, narrowing his eyes and glaring at the mercenary.

Ramut trailed one hand through his long, dusty beard. "500 gald each."

"500?!" Colette choked. "But sir, that's-"

"Here," Sara said resolutely, taking several large, gold coins from a pocket at her belt. She met Ramut's eyes as she offered him the money, briefly bowing to him in respect. "Take it, with 50 extra as my thanks."

Ramut grinned, eagerly accepting her payment and returning her bow. His dog returned to his feet, wagging its short tail happily. "You are too kind, my lady."

* * *

"So, uh."

Sara stared down at the Exspheres in one hand and those Key Crests in the other. The four of them had left Ramut's stand and were now back around the side of the inn, near where Raine and Genis had been packing up their things. The silver-haired siblings met up with the rest of the group, approaching Sara with remnants of caution.

"What do I do now?" she finished, blinking.

"Well, first you'll need to decide where to equip them at," Lloyd said, raising his left hand up to eye level. "Genis, Kratos and I wear ours on our hands, and since Professor Raine does magic, hers is in her staff."

"I want to use Tarja and Ko's power to defeat the Desians and bring happiness back into this world," Sara said roughly. "I want to spend the rest of my life doing good for others and helping people in need… like you all helped me." She paused as if collecting her thoughts, glancing up at each of them with heartfelt sincerity. "I don't have skill with swords or magic. My weapons are my claws and my body. So I'll put one Exsphere on each of my hands… and hopefully my dragons will help me put them to good use from now on."

Raine stepped forward, meeting Sara's eyes with a look of steel resolve. "Then you should come with us," she said simply.

Lloyd, Genis and Colette all turned to her with surprise.

"Raine," Genis protested in a mixture of shock and contempt, tugging at her robes with one hand. "But she-"

"-Has the exact same mission as we do," the Professor finished for him. "Bringing good to the world, helping others, and defeating the Desians. Is that not the true reason why we set out from Iselia in the first place?"

Sara gawked at all of them, bewildered and once again a few steps behind.

"We are on the Journey of Regeneration," Kratos offered, noting her confused look. "Colette is the Chosen of Mana. The rest of us are here to protect her and keep her safe through her trials."

Colette smiled at Sara sheepishly, bowing her golden head in silent agreement.

"Sara is obviously a skilled fighter and has a dragon she can summon at will," Raine continued factually. "I believe she would only further increase our Journey's chances of success. That is, if she's willing to join."

Everyone was silent as Sara took turns looking at each group member for some sort of reaction: Colette with innocent hope, Lloyd with excitement, Genis with distaste, Raine with scholarly certainty, and Kratos seemingly with nothing at all. After several moments, Sara's gaze settled on Colette and the crystal at the base of her neck, and she smiled softly.

"Well, I've never been very religious, but it sounds like I should be asking you, Chosen," Sara said, and lowered her pumpkin-orange head, holding one hand over her heart as her eyes closed. "I… don't have a home anymore. All I've got left are the good deeds I have yet to do. I'd be honored to protect you and fight alongside your friends, if you'll let me."

Colette blinked several times and breathed a nervous laugh. No matter how many years of training she'd received to prepare her for her life as the Chosen, she would never be accustomed to the strange reverence with which other people treated her.

"Oh, well… um…" Colette raised her cerulean eyes to Lloyd, who had forever been her dependable barometer of change. "Wh-what do you think, Lloyd?"

The boy straightened his back proudly, eyeing Sara with refreshing trust and confidence. "I understand what she's going through. I've… also done some things with consequences I never intended." He paused and shook his head. "But that doesn't have to be the end. The end is when you stop caring, when you stop trying for the greater good. And she's not there yet." He met Sara's gaze and smiled. "I think she should come with us."

"Okay!" Colette grinned. "I agree with Lloyd! Welcome to our group, Mrs. Sara!"

That was a phrase she never thought she'd hear again. Tears arose once more, but Sara successfully managed to keep them from spilling over this time. She wasn't sure what she'd done to find a group of people this forgiving, not only to travel with but also to save her life. Whatever it was, she was deeply, immeasurably grateful for it. Funny how something positive could come out of the worst of days.

"Thank you all," she managed, hiding her eyes beneath her bangs. "Thank you. ...I can't say it enough."

She heard Kratos step up beside her. He glanced at her out of the corner of one garnet eye. "Then let us equip your Exspheres, and we can see what a dragon's power can do for a human."

Sara nodded, and removed both of her shoulder-length black gloves, revealing more freckled tawny skin marred by occasional of claw-shaped scars: a souvenir from years of both training and being a student of Kozei's dragons.

"Alright." Carefully, she placed the Key Crests on the backs of both of her bare hands. The Crests were in the shape of four-pointed stars, and she arranged them both in the directions of a compass, with the northern point facing towards her knuckles and the southern point towards her wrists.

"Is this okay?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

Lloyd gave her an affirmative nod. "That's just right. Now you only need to place the Exspheres."

Carefully, Sara retrieved the pair of gems from the pocket at her hip, holding them in one hand and glancing back and forth from the Key Crests to the Exspheres with a puzzled look. "Um…how do I-"

"Here," Kratos said quietly, holding out his hand in an offer of assistance. Sara met his stare and dropped the gems into his open palm in a mirror image of when he'd given them to her earlier.

"Blue on your right?" he asked, as if he'd already known the answer.

Tarja, the green one, had been the gentle mother, though full of fierce love for her family; Ko'tenda, pale-blue, had been the protector, a bastion of strength and power. Sara was right-handed, and as such did the most damage with her right side - so it was only deserving of the patriarch's place. She nodded, and Kratos immediately placed the pale green gem, within the Key Crest on Sara's left hand. The greyish blue one went on her right, fitting perfectly within the Crest's golden circle.

The group reflexively backed up several steps, eyeing her with wary anticipation. Sara felt suddenly like she was on display, a part of a carnival sideshow with an anxious audience.

"So… is something supposed to happen? Or-"

She was halted in mid-sentence by an overwhelming, thrumming heat that surged up her arms and into her chest, settling in her heart and mingling with her blood. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating, and her skin seemed to emit a soft reddish glow for a few seconds. Fiery orange hair swayed in a nonexistent breeze. She brought her hands out in front of her, looking at them in astonishment, curling her fingers one by one as if testing them.

"Wow," she managed. "This is… amazing."

"How do you feel?" Raine asked, just barely hiding the enthusiastic curiosity in her voice.

"Strong," Sara breathed, straightening and aligning her spine, her arms flexing. "Alive. And loved," she added softly. "I would test my skills, but I don't want to risk opening my wound again yet." A mischievous smirk tugged at her lips. "So it'll just have to be a surprise for the next Desians."

"That's more like it!' Lloyd exclaimed. "Professor, is everything ready to go?"

Raine nodded and picked up one of the packs on the ground beside her to hand it to Lloyd. "Yes. Let's continue on to Palmacosta."

"Yeah," Genis agreed, his small face flickering with excitement. "It's the biggest city in the world. I'm sure we'll find something there."

"Then let us delay no longer," Kratos added. He turned away dutifully to head east towards the still rising sun, but spared a glance back at the group. "However, if we're going to Palmacosta, we'll have to pass through the Ossa Trail. It's not a treacherous trail, but there's no harm in being prepared."

"I can help," Sara offered, desperately attempting to stave off her feelings of uselessness. "I don't have a ton of gald, but I always carry plenty with me in case of emergencies. I'll get us some supplies before we leave."

Colette was still smiling. "Thanks, Mrs. Sara."


	4. Sicarius (Assassin)

Chapter Four

 _Sicarius_

The Ossa Trail took only a couple of hours to reach on foot. It ascended out of the desert sands tree by tree, until the foliage met with jagged mountains and the dunes became dirt trails. The smell of scorched earth was slowly overcome by aromatic evergreen trees, and the sun retreated from a relentless enemy into a welcome gift of warmth between holes in the pine canopy.

Raine and Genis were in the lead of the group, followed by Lloyd, who forever seemed to be at Colette's side, then Sara, and lastly Kratos, whose steady, broad steps never faltered.

Sara was thankful for the sheltering pine boughs, and she looked up at them and smiled, taking in a slow, deep breath through her nose. Genis and Raine were too far ahead to make conversation with, and Colette and Lloyd seemed involved in some strangely deep discussion about animals. That left Kratos, who seemed to be perfectly content with silence, although she swore she could feel him boring holes into her back with his silent stare.

"So, Kratos," she said suddenly, and with far too much enthusiasm.

He sighed, closing his eyes in resignation. "Yes?"

Sara slowed her stride so that he caught up with her. Her freckled face was bright and friendly. "Where are you from? How did you fall in with this group?"

The swordsman walked beside her for a few moments before answering, one hand resting idly against the hilt of his blade. "I am a traveling mercenary. The Chosen's family hired me to protect her on this Journey."

"How long have you been travelling with them?"

"Just over one week. You've joined our Journey in its early stages."

"Well, um." An awkward placeholder of a cough. "I've wanted to thank you for your help."

Kratos' expression remained impassive and utterly bored. "It is my job. I am required to do anything that the Chosen requests."

Sara's eyes thinned. "She didn't ask you to lend me your sword."

He frowned, his cinnamon eyes flashing as he shot her a glare. Good. Anger was at least some sort of reaction. "The Church only paid me as a guard. Killing is extra."

Sara gave him a satisfied nod. She wore a small, skeptical smile that he found rather infuriating. "Fair enough."

They continued in silence for awhile. Somewhere overhead, a pair of robins sang cheerful notes back and forth to one another. The trail turned temporarily into a muddy patch, and Sara hopped around each of the murky puddles, grinning and breathing a word of triumph when her injured side didn't scream out in pain. Kratos simply stepped over it with one long, uninterrupted stride.

"I've seen it before," he offered unexpectedly into the dense air.

Sara's head whipped around, and she almost lost her footing as she looked at him with surprise - both at what he'd said, and the fact that he'd spoken at all.

"Death is the most merciful end for a victim of Exspheres," he finished, meeting her eyes briefly.

For some reason, she felt as if he'd just admitted something personal to her - although it was equally possible that his words were simply to placate her and finish the conversation. She couldn't really tell yet. From what she knew of Kratos so far, and how the others spoke of him, most of his actions and words were machine-like. But the last few seconds just didn't _quite_ fit in with that description.

"Thanks for saying that. And for freeing me from that rage demon thing," she continued, ticking each item off on her fingers. "And for healing me, and helping me fight the Desians, and the sword thing, and the Exspheres, and for carrying my dumb unconscious ass to the inn. Oh, and for the omelette I never ate, but smelled delicious."

She raised her hands and held up eight fingers in front of her, wearing an amiable, impressed smirk. "That's a lot of favors I owe you, Kratos."

"Then it's a good thing this Journey will take awhile," he responded, something akin to amusement flashing just briefly across his stoic face. "Provided, of course, that you're not killed by monsters or Desians first."

Just then, there was a sudden flash of smoke and light on the trail ahead of their group. The robins that had been singing happily minutes before now took off into the distance with alarmed cries. Lloyd was instantly in front of Colette, forming a protective red shield with his body, his hands gripping the hilts of his twin swords.

As the smoke cleared, the shadow of a lone figure was slowly revealed - a young woman with black hair and a strange (and very low-cut) lavender outfit. A small, fox-type creature with beige fur was perched on her shoulder, its large blue tails twitching.

"Stop!" the woman said, holding her hands palm-out before her chest.

Sara and Kratos exchanged a puzzled glance.

"Or random smoke-ninja girls," Sara tacked on to his last comment. He nodded in agreement.

Genis and Raine wore the same quizzical expression. The look on the strange woman's face fell from one of cold resolve to disappointment when she was met with stares of confusion instead of fear.

Colette tugged once on Lloyd's crimson sleeve. "Is she a friend of yours, Lloyd?"

Lloyd shook his head and shrugged. "Not that I'm aware of."

"Is the Chosen of Mana among you?" the woman demanded, ignoring them.

Colette stepped up beside Lloyd, smiling brightly. "Oh! That's me." She continued walking towards the newcomer, believing her to be another of Martel's followers come to wish her well. "Nice to meet you!"

The black-haired woman narrowed her eyes. She held one hand out beside her, and in her palm was a rectangular piece of paper with black symbols inscribed on its surface. "...Prepare to die!"

There was a collective "What?!" from the Chosen's group just as Colette, in true Chosen fashion, tripped over a seemingly innocuous root sticking out of the ground. As she tumbled forward, and as the woman assassin charged, a hidden trapdoor beneath a thin layer of dirt fell open in the space between them like a scene from a poorly-planned comedy skit. Everyone watched in stunned silence as the assassin, unable to stop in time, stepped right into the hole left over… and proceeded to fall unceremoniously down a long, dark passage towards whatever lay at the bottom.

While Lloyd helped Colette to her feet and Kratos intently scouted the rest of the area for more strange women, Genis, Raine and Sara all peered over the edge just in time to hear a loud _thud!_ at the bottom.

"Uh-oh," the three said in unison.

"Oh no!" Colette exclaimed, joining in their stare down the dark tunnel. "What should I do? I did it again… "

"' _Again_?'" Sara echoed incredulously. "Damn, do you guys intentionally make a habit of defeating assassins with trap doors?"

"Oh believe me," Genis began flatly, giving the blonde Chosen an exasperated glance. "There was nothing _intentional_ about this."

"You don't need to worry about it," Raine said, straightening and clutching the staff at her side. "If she had not fallen in, you might've been killed."

Guilt was still evident on Colette's pale features. "But…"

Lloyd stepped up beside Colette and seemed to be trying not to laugh. "Well, I guess I do feel a bit sorry for her."

"I hope she's okay," Colette said, wringing her hands nervously.

Genis smirked knowingly, pointing one finger into the air. "Even assuming her weight to be 45 kilograms, and this hole to be 10 meters deep, and calculating the gravity constant at 9.8, the impact shouldn't have been fatal."

"Gravity… constant?" Sara and Lloyd both repeated, mouths agape.

"I don't understand what you just said," Lloyd continued. "But she's alive, right?"

Genis shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably."

Lloyd shook his head as he peered down the hole and into the darkness. "Still, man, she's got some bad luck. Standing right on top of a trap door and all."

"Or maybe Colette just has really good luck," Sara offered, bending down to tug on the root Colette had tripped over earlier. The small wooden door slammed shut. Sara's eyes widened in surprise, and she gingerly let go, stepping back slowly and carefully.

"It's not a trap," Raine said, her voice tinged with sudden recognition. "It's a hidden maintenance passage for the mountain path."

"…We should get moving," Kratos announced abruptly. He walked past the rest of the group, continuing on the trail ahead.

"Hey!" Lloyd shouted after him. "Shouldn't we try to find out who that woman was?"

"She'll come after us again on her own. This area is too confined and the footing is poor. It would be wise not to linger."

The trail continued further into the forest, where the trees grew taller and their branches thicker. It wound up and around a large hill, where peeks of distant fields could be seen through rare breaks in the foliage.

"Who was that girl earlier?" Lloyd wondered aloud.

The group was silent in thought for a few moments before the Chosen spoke: "I hope we get to see her again."

"What are you talking about?" Lloyd exclaimed, his russet eyes wide with disbelief. "She's trying to kill you!"

"Yeah," Colette continued thoughtfully, one hand absently fiddling with the long sleeve of her white tunic. "Once we become friends, I'll have to ask her why she was doing that."

"Huh? Are you kidding me?" Lloyd threw his arms out to his sides. "How do you plan on becoming _friends_ with her?"

"Hmm. What would you suggest?"

"Me?" He blinked a few times. "How am _I_ supposed to know?"

Colette shrugged, cocking her blonde head to one side before giving Lloyd a small, innocent smile. "Try to come up with a plan before we see her again."

"Wait, _I_ have to come up with the plan?" Lloyd halted but Colette continued walking forward. He stared at her back, his face scrunched up in an expression of utter confusion. "Why me?"

The trail eventually led to a dead-end where at one time there had been an active mine entrance into the mountain's guts, but was now little more than a hole filled with rubble and wood planks. There seemed to be a few stones that had been recently moved, having left fresh tracks in the rocky soil.

"Look! This must be where she escaped," Genis said, kicking over one of the freed stones.

"Then she's probably not-" Raine's words were cut off when she turned away from the mine entrance and straight into the gaze of the ubiquitous black-haired woman, who was now standing before them with the same wavering look of determination - but now with just a bit more dust and dirt on her outfit.

"-Far," Raine finished with a sigh.

"W-Wait!" the assassin demanded.

"Wow, she caught up with us," Lloyd said with a mixture of interest and exasperation.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Colette beamed. "You're okay!"

"D-Don't move!" was the assassin's shaky reply.

"A wise decision," Raine said, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

"I won't be caught off-guard this time," the strange woman announced. To everyone's surprise, she palmed another one of those inscribed pieces of paper and its edges began glowing with a brilliant yellow light. As she held her hands out before her, a hulking, monstrous form materialized behind her in a sudden flash, with long white arms and a tail of blood-red feathers. It reared its head back, releasing a startling cry through its beaklike mouth and shaking its matching crimson mane. It hovered several feet off the ground, suspended by an unseen force.

"Prepare to die!" she repeated, although with much more credibility this time.

"Okay, I don't feel bad for her anymore," Lloyd managed, drawing his twin swords. The rest of the group readied for battle as well - Raine clutching her glowing staff, Genis with his kendama, Kratos brandishing his sword, and Sara slipping on her claws.

"That guardian is strong against magic," Kratos said sternly, glancing at Lloyd and Sara. "You two keep it occupied with physical force. I will focus on the assassin. Raine, keep Colette protected. Genis, support us with your spells."

"Does he always do this?" Sara muttered to Lloyd, flexing her claws in preparation.

"Only every single time," Lloyd replied with distaste. He raised his blades and charged forward fearlessly, his hair flying, glancing back at Sara with a grin. "Now let's see what your Exspheres can do, Sara!"

"Right!" She sprinted after him, her legs springing to life, her duster floating out behind her like a pair of wings.

The black-haired woman followed the pair of them with her eyes, judging their path, before lunging forward and slinging one of her many paper seals at their feet. It instantly exploded with a cloud of smoke and a loud bang, but Lloyd and Sara split directions in a successful evasion, rushing past her and at the advancing guardian creature. Its lithe arms ended in long, scythe-like claws which it used to slash at them repeatedly; Lloyd countered, blocking with one sword and striking out with the other, while Sara leapt over the creature's head, twisting her torso around as she descended to rake her claws down its back.

Enraged, it turned on her with a wild-eyed cry, flinging out one arm that she ducked beneath at the last moment, the wind from its strike ruffling her fiery hair. From such a powerful swing, it threw itself off balance, and Sara used those few seconds to launch upward, arcing her right arm in a savage uppercut, the grey-blue Exsphere on her hand gleaming brightly. " _Phoenix Talons!_ " Her whole arm became sheathed in flames as her claws made contact beneath the guardian's chin. The creature stumbled backwards, stunned, and Lloyd was behind it instantly, delivering slash after slash, at last ending in a dual upward and downward sweep as he yelled " _Tiger Blade!_ "

The clumsy assassin dashed towards them, intent on aiding her guardian, but was stopped abruptly by a flash of blue and garnet as Kratos appeared in front of her, sword drawn and gaze focused, as if materializing from thin air. Wide-eyed, she halted mid-stride and leapt away in a bounding backflip just in time to avoid a swing of his shining blade. She landed on her hands and flipped over once more onto her feet to put some distance between them, preparing another array of seals in her palms.

But suddenly her boots lost purchase on the ground beneath her as the dirt became slicked in frost, and from behind her she could hear the voice of the silver-haired boy shouting "Icicle!" just as a chunk of flying ice hit her square in the back. She staggered forward, desperately attempting to remain on her feet, but found the breath being brutally forced from her lungs as Kratos thrust the hilt of his now-sheathed sword up and into her abdomen.

Her mouth flew open as she involuntarily released a strangled gasp. She managed to look up just in time to see Lloyd and Sara deliver the finishing blows to her guardian, which sank lifelessly to the ground before vanishing completely in a flash of ethereal light. Grimacing, she glared up at Kratos, who stood before her expectantly, one hand still wrapped around the handle of his blade.

"Ugh… just you wait," she ground out, getting to her feet. "I swear I will kill you all next time!"

Using the last of her tricks, she suddenly coated the air in thick smoke; when it settled a few seconds later, she was gone without a trace.

Lloyd and Sara approached Kratos, flanking him and staring at the spot where the strange woman had been just moments before.

"Why are people trying to kill us?" Lloyd asked, wearing a frustrated frown.

Kratos finally sheathed his blade. "There are always those who reject salvation."

"Maybe she's a Desian," Genis said, scratching his head in thought.

"Who knows?" Kratos responded with a terse shake of his head. "At any rate, we are in constant danger. That's all we have to know."

Raine held one slender hand to her chin as she stared down at where the assassin had been just moments before. "Those clothes…"

"Professor, something wrong?" Lloyd asked, attempting to meet her distracted gaze.

Her slate blue eyes were narrowed thoughtfully. "Ah, it's just… the clothes that assassin was wearing, don't you think they were rather… unique?"

"Indeed," Kratos agreed. "They aren't something you see every day."

"I know!" Lloyd shot one hand into the air like he was back in Raine's classroom and, for once, eager to be called upon. "I bet they're dwarven clothes! The ones I'm wearing now were made by my father." He stepped back, holding his arms out to his sides, proudly on display. "Well? Don't they look kinda similar?"

Five flat stares gave him a silent answer. He withered, his shoulders slumping, before anger patted him encouragingly on the back. "Oh, whatever. You guys don't know anything!"

"You call that similar?" Genis said, smirking.

Kratos had a strange, hopeless look on his face. "...Is this what happens when one is raised by a dwarf?"

"I can kinda see it," Sara said, bending forward and stepping to Lloyd's side. The tip of her first finger pressed inquisitively to her pursed bottom lip. "I mean, you both wear boots. And black pants."

Lloyd beamed. "See?!" After a second, he met Sara's gaze, shock driving his eyes open wide. "W-were you raised by a dwarf too?"

She sighed. The finger that had been on her lip now absently poked at its opposite as she glanced off to one side. "No. ...I was raised by dragons…"

Genis dragged a hand down his face. "That's even worse…"

Colette approached Lloyd enthusiastically, clasping her hands beneath her chin. "You did great, Lloyd! And you too, Mrs. Sara. I really feel safer now that you're here," she added, bowing a little.

"Yeah, you were great!" Lloyd agreed, turning to Sara and grinning. "And you can even use fire moves."

"Thanks," Sara breathed, gazing down at her hands with wonderment. "It all just… came to me. I don't know how to explain it. I guess this is what Exspheres do for you." She looked up and over at Kratos, tilting her chin and smirking defiantly. "And hey, not bad after all, Kratos."

"'Not… bad?'" He tilted his head like a dog hearing a high-pitched sound.

"Anyway, let's go to Izoold and look for a place where we can get a ship," Lloyd announced. He and Colette were headed off on the trail once more, and the others followed with renewed spirits after a brief victory.

"Sara," Kratos continued gravely. "Please clarify your earlier comment. Do you believe my strategies are inadequate? Because I can assure you that they are not."

She gazed back at him, a broad smile sweeping across her freckled face. Her head tilted back as she erupted in laughter - a hearty, melodious sound that probably carried way too far for his comfort.

"I fail to see how any of this is amusing," he muttered, frowning.

Sara held one hand to her injured side as if it ached. She swiped beneath one eye with the back of her finger, grimacing a little but still grinning. "Oh, it wasn't the assassin or her guardian monster that did me in for the day: it was the mercenary," she mused, giving him a sidelong smirk. "I think your strategy worked very well, Kratos. Where I come from, 'not bad' is a compliment."

His frown deepened. "...Humph."

"Let me guess," she continued, her eyes narrowed knowingly. "You're used to being top of the food chain where you're from, right? I get it. That high horse you're on must make hearing the rest of us below a bit difficult."

Kratos halted, a look of genuine bewilderment crossing his stoic features for the briefest of moments. Who was she to insult him? What did _she_ know? She'd only been here for a day and already… Such _arrogance…_!

He growled under his breath and shot her a perturbed glare as he continued following behind her.

"You are a strange and infuriating woman."

* * *

"Well, we are definitely on the ocean," Lloyd remarked with disgust as he pinched his nose shut with two fingers. "Everything smells like fish…"

Izoold stood before the Chosen's group, a tightly-knit network of homey wooden houses connected partly by bridges over the ocean tide and partly by pathways over land. Each house was built with a unique but ingenious roof design to combat the yearly storms that breached the coast, a tested mixture of cured wooden planks and sturdy stones. Numerous docks and ports were built into the heart of the small town, but none of which seemed to be currently in use; most docks sat empty, the water beneath lapping idly at thick, barnacle-laden wooden posts.

"That smell makes me hungry," Genis said with enthusiasm, his eager blue eyes gazing around the village's outline. "And it's almost lunch time! Maybe we can find a nice seafood restaurant… "

"Finding transportation to Palmacosta takes precedence," Raine began, a green tinge to her uneasy face. "As much as I hate to admit it."

"There are usually passenger ships running the Palmacosta route," Sara offered, pausing at the edge of a dock and peering out over the distant sea. She smiled, taking in a long, reverent breath. "Izoold is my hometown. I was born here. Although… it looks a little different now than it did back then."

"There don't appear to be any ships at the moment," Kratos said, looking around the empty harbor.

Beside them, a young man in a plain beige tunic exited the front door of one of the dockhouses, carrying a stack of empty crates. Lloyd approached him, waving a hand. "Hey! Good morning! Do you know where all the boats are?"

Overhead, a flock of gulls passed by, cawing loudly. The man continued onto the edge of the dock and sat down the stack of crates beside a pile of fraying coiled-up rope. He straightened, looking over at Lloyd and the others, and shook his head. "There aren't any passenger ships running. It's too dangerous with the Desians and monsters around. Most people get here only by getting a ride on a boat from a guy named Aifread."

"Is this Aifread still around?" Raine asked.

"Aifread? No, he's not here anymore." The man shook his head again. "He said he was going back to his hometown."

The door to another nearby house suddenly flew open to slam against the wall. A young woman stormed out, wearing a knit white skirt and a red blouse. In her palm was a sealed envelope. "What did you just say? Aifread went back to his hometown?"

Obviously startled, the man backed up a few steps, holding his hands up in prostration. "Y-yes, Lyla! I thought you'd heard…"

"Why wasn't I told?" the woman named Lyla demanded, fuming. "He has to know how I feel about him! Don't you understand, Max?"

The Chosen's group all exchanged awkward glances. Lloyd sidled up to Sara, though his wide eyes never left the exchange taking place before them, and he nudged her in the arm with his elbow. "Hey, Sara, uh… Is everyone here this dramatic all the time?"

"Humans are so hopeless sometimes," Genis added under his breath.

"You, there! Excuse me!" Lyla shouted, approaching the group.

"Us?" Colette asked innocently, pointing one finger at her own chest.

"Do you see anyone else here?" the woman asked impatiently as one hand found its way to her hips. The other was outstretched towards Lloyd, that same envelope in her grip. "I'd like you to deliver this letter for me to Aifread in Luin."  
Lloyd exhaled a nervous laugh. "We can't deliver it if we can't cross the ocean."

"But you need to cross the ocean, right? Why else would you be here?" She gestured her head towards the man apparently named Max. "If you deliver it, I'll have Max take you on his boat."

Max's already tired face fell, his mouth hanging open in shock. "You can't be serious!"

Lyla turned to face him, bristling. "If you keep making a fuss about this, I'll just do it on my own!"

"N-no! You can't!" Max protested with a fervent shake of his head.

"Just watch me!"

"Okay, okay… I'll go. Dammit…"

"She's got stones," Sara said, crossing her arms. "I like her."

Genis narrowed his eyes and raised one eyebrow. "'Stones'? What does that mean?"

"It means she has-"

" _Courage_ ," Raine finished deliberately, shooting Sara a dangerous glare. "It means she has courage, Genis."

Sara plastered a nervous smile on her face, scratching the back of her head with one hand. "Absolutely. L-listen to your sister, Genis."

"Uh… okay…"

"We'll do it," Lloyd offered to Lyla with a confident smile. "We need a way across the ocean."

"It's all settled then," Lyla confirmed, mirroring Lloyd's smile. "Here's the letter. Give Max about an hour to get his ship ready." Her voice darkened. "And if you read that letter, I'll find out, and you'd better believe you'll regret it."

Lloyd blinked a few times as he watched Lyla saunter off, her letter resting in his palm. He turned and quickly handed it to Colette. "Here, you'd better take this. I'm pretty bad at keeping secrets…"

Colette beamed and grasped the letter in her small hands. "Okay, Lloyd! I'll do my best."

"Well, this means we have time to eat now, right, Raine?" Genis said hopefully, looking up at his sister.

"We have time, yes," Raine agreed, glancing down into the bag at her side with a frown. "The gald, however, is another matter..."

"It's my treat," Sara offered with a grin. She turned to face the inner part of the village, gesturing one hand out beside her. "There's a restaurant not far. It's been here since I was tiny. I haven't been back to Izoold in about a year, but hopefully it's still there." She paused, glancing around at each member of the Chosen's group, and finally settling on Colette. "I still owe you guys for saving me. At least let me buy you all lunch."

"Deal!" Genis and Lloyd echoed in unison.

* * *

"That was delicious," Genis moaned, leaning back in his seat and holding his hands to his belly. "I haven't had a meal that satisfying in _forever_."

The small restaurant was decorated on each of its wooden walls with metal carvings of fish, sharks, dolphins, and other sea monsters. There was only room for about two dozen people in the dining area, and Lloyd and the others seemed to occupy a large amount of its available space with all of their gear. The table before the Chosen's group was strewn with empty plates, crumbs, and little else.

Sara herself took up three seats, stretching out her long legs from one chair to another, and using a third as space to hold her pack. Genis and Raine sat at one side, having shared a meal. Lloyd was beside them, still wiping his hands and mouth. Kratos was on the far end, diligently arranging his used silverware on his plate.

"I'm glad you guys liked it here," Sara began, smiling broadly as she worked at her teeth with a toothpick. "Are you sure you don't want anything, Colette? We can get something to-go…"

"I couldn't," Colette repeated, smiling and shrugging her thin shoulders with practiced nonchalance. "I am the Chosen. I can't accept such a favor. Please, don't worry about it, Mrs. Sara. Besides, I'm just not that hungry." Her gaze lowered, as if she were fighting off the urge to say much more. "I'm sorry if it offends you."

Lloyd leaned forward as if to say something, but sat back a moment later, eyeing Colette sadly out of the corner of his eye.

"Not at all," Sara began, dropping her boots from their-chair perch and onto the scuffed wooden floor. She smiled a little as she collected everyone's plates into an unsteady stack on the paper-covered table before her. "I admire your devotion, Colette. Especially because I could never duplicate it."

A waitress approached and took the stack of plates Sara had attempted to arrange. Sara handed her a few coins from the pocket at her waist, and the waitress smiled and gave Sara a thankful nod.

"We're all taken care of here," Sara said, slinging her pack onto one shoulder with only the last remnants of injury evident in her movements. "Everyone good to go?"

"I think it's fair to say we've eaten enough for the next week," Raine began, standing and urging Genis and Lloyd to do the same, though they each hesitated in their respective chairs, comforted by full stomachs. She met Sara's gaze, calculating and curious cyan meeting an open and honest earth. "Thank you for the meal, Sara. The next seal lies waiting for us. Let's be on our way."

Sara nodded, giving the Professor a cynical smirk. "And let's hope this Max guy keeps his word."

* * *

The lone ship in all the village belonged to the unfortunate Max. Made from redwood, two large masts stood proudly from its deck, their sails still furled, waiting to catch the breeze. Its hull swayed softly in the calm water. The deck was a fair size, with room for several dozen passengers.

"This will do," Kratos announced, eyeing the ship carefully. He flicked his head to one side to adjust his hair. "Any smaller and I wouldn't trust it to make the trip."

"H-how long is this trip going to take, exactly?" Raine said, frowning and swallowing hard.

"Four hours with the wind," Max responded from behind a stack of boxes on the ship's deck. His head popped out from behind one so he could see the approaching Chosen's group. "We'll be arriving in Palmacosta about 5:00pm. Are you all ready to go?"

"Yep," Lloyd said with a grin. "I can't wait to see Palmacosta."

"Okay, let's set sail," Max said, releasing an exasperated sigh as he dusted off his hands. "…Don't blame me if we run into any monsters."

Lloyd boarded first, stepping across the rather rickety wooden ramp with confidence. Once on the deck, he turned and offered his hand to Colette, who grasped it thankfully as she followed after him. Genis went next, followed by Kratos and Sara, but Raine remained on the edge of the dock, staring down at the boarding ramp like it was about to jump up and eat her.

"I was afraid this journey would force me on a boat sooner or later…" she muttered, her shoulders slumping.

"It's okay, Sis!" Genis said cheerfully, gesturing out to her. "It just takes two steps, that's all."

"If it's any consolation," Sara offered, wearing a hopeful smile. "I can summon Iona to rescue us if we get stranded."

Colette was beside Sara, and tugged on her sleeve once, looking up at her taller frame with a grimace. "The only thing the Professor hates as much as water is dragons…"

Sara's face fell and she breathed a dejected sigh. "Well… I tried."

"Get a running start, Professor!" Lloyd shouted, waving Raine on. "We all believe in you!"

Raine took in a steeling breath and charged forward, keeping one eye closed as if attempting to block out half the terror of seeing water beneath her feet. In two bounding steps she was on board, gripping the wooden railing for support and still refusing to open her closed eye.

"Good job, Professor!" Colette cheered happily. "You're so brave!"


	5. Votum (Vow)

Chapter Five

 _Votum_

* * *

The day was pleasant and the waters remained still: two things that made for a _relatively_ stress-free journey according to Raine. She'd taken to leaning her back against the mizzen-mast, her pack against her feet as she stared into the comforting blue sky. The feel of the mast's stiff form behind her was a reassuring reminder that solid ground still existed somewhere, and the steady flapping of the canvas sails provided a welcoming alternative to the sound of waves as the ship's keel sliced steadily forward.

Lloyd, Genis and Colette, none of whom had ever been on a ship of this size before, were clustered at the bow, eagerly taking in the view and the nonstop salty breeze. The occasional large fish would leap out of the water beside the ship's hull, and each time the three teens would yell out in excitement. Lloyd had begun keeping count of each lucky sighting, determined to beat Genis, who seemed to have much keener eyes for some reason (although in reality was simply much less easily distracted). Colette simply watched their actions, content in the strange, energetic enjoyment both boys seemed to get out of their competition.

The stern of the ship was occupied by Sara, who stood silently gazing at Izoold's fading horizon. The worn wooden deck beneath her boots seemed to carry her farther and farther away from the last and most difficult few days of her life. Each gust of wind and spray of mist was a renewing, fresh breath gifted by the earth itself, and she cherished each one equally, the still-foreign gems on the back of both her hands glowing faintly as if in agreement.

She wasn't sure why, but she could sense his presence beside her before she ever heard his faint footsteps.

"Have your injuries healed sufficiently?" Kratos asked, looking at Sara's tall, tawny form out of the corner of calculating garnet eyes. The tails of his cloak swayed softly behind him in the neverending breeze.

"I think so," Sara began, glancing down at her hands. "These have helped me heal faster, too. I've never felt anything like it."

"Exspheres can be an enormous benefit," Kratos offered, joining in her gaze out to sea. "Provided they're used correctly."

Sara gestured her head to his left hand. "Where'd you get yours?"

"I took one from a Desian. I figured it would make my jobs easier."

She turned to face him then, and her eyes met his, holding there in a calm, steady stare. "So what's it like being a mercenary? Do you like it?"

Kratos was silent for a few moments. His hands rested on the smoothed wooden portside rail. "It's merely a source of income. I don't feel much of anything about it, really."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well, okay. So is there something else you'd rather be doing?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Really? Didn't you have anything you wanted to do when you were younger?" Her broad shoulders shrugged once. "Any dreams?"

"I… don't remember much of my childhood," Kratos admitted hesitantly. "It was a long time ago."

"What about now?" She continued over the slow, lazy drawl of gulls floating above. "If you could drop everything and start over, what would you do?"

His spine stiffened. "That is… not possible. I prefer not to dwell on things that I cannot change."

"I hear that," Sara agreed with a cynical laugh. She leaned to one side, resting her hip against she ship's swaying hull. "But don't you ever wonder? Just for fun?"

"Mercenaries are not paid to have _fun_ ," he countered, giving her an impatient look from beneath his bangs.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Do you have fun when you're not on a job, at least? Go to the pub for a few cold ones? Play darts?" Her eyes flicked to his sword before returning to his face. "You've got great coordination. I bet you'd be awesome at darts."

Kratos shook his head slowly. His voice was terse. "I do not have time for such foolish behavior. My job keeps me very occupied."

"Wow," Sara said flatly. "That sounds pretty awful, Kratos. Why do you keep at it if it doesn't make you happy?"

Something changed abruptly in his demeanor. Whereas before he'd been a willing participant in their conversation, he now came across as exposed and desolate. It was something she hadn't intended, and _really_ hadn't expected at all. He seemed so dreadfully experienced at apathy.

"This my lot in life," he said simply. "This is all I've ever been. I can't change it now."

" _Totally_ false," she argued with a sudden explosiveness that made him look up at her. "If you want to be happy, then be happy. There's nothing stopping you. As you are now, sounds like it's not much of a life you're living."

At the other end of the ship, Lloyd and Genis broke out into a loud, rather inane argument. Kratos pretended to listen. Sara looked away, suddenly aware of the rather awkward intensity with which she had been staring at his mysterious, elegant form.

"I _was_ happy once," he said finally, and with thinly-veiled bitterness. "...But it was all taken from me."

Curiosity flared brightly. There were all kinds of personal digs to take from that statement, but she decided to restrain herself. She wondered briefly if he was always this dramatic just for attention, or if his life had truly been as interesting as he led on.

"…I hear that, too," she agreed quietly. She stepped up beside him, her forearms resting next to his on the railing as she fought to find his elusive eyes beneath all that hair. "Listen, sorry if that was rude. I can be kind of… _blunt_ sometimes." She smiled a little. "It's just that you seem like a good guy, Kratos. And you've helped me out a whole lot. You should be happy."

The silence that hovered between them went on for what seemed like eternity, though it was not unpleasant or awkward. Kratos barely moved, instead choosing to stare out at the endless blue horizon - something that honestly surprised Sara, who half expected him to walk away without another word. He didn't really seem like the type for this kind of conversation - or, rather, any conversation at all.

Raine had eventually managed to step away from the mast's support and was now approaching the edge of the deck with Colette beside her. The younger blonde girl smiled, bright and encouraging, as she led Raine to the ship's outer railing. The Professor's face turned greener with every step until she eventually gripped the railing with white-knuckled, vicelike intensity, glaring out over the water as if her intimidating expression would somehow quell the small waves into submission.

"May I ask you a question?" Kratos said at length.

Sara shrugged again. "Sure. I just asked you like a zillion of them."

"Not two days ago, you went through something very difficult. Yet you still seem…optimistic." He paused, and met her eyes. His half-hidden expression was sincere and thoughtful. "Why? Do you not still feel the pain of what happened?"

Sadness brushed her features as she looked down at her hands. "…Of course I do. I'll always feel it. Wounds this deep never completely heal." She shook her head, straightening her slumped shoulders proudly as she turned to face him. "But if there's one thing I've learned in my life so far, it's to always be grateful." One arm swept out beside her in a grand gesture. "I'm grateful to be on this ship, to have met you guys - hell, to even still be alive. If I focus on the things I still have, even - and _especially -_ \- the small ones, then everything is okay."

"I see," Kratos muttered, with something that was either restrained admiration or outright disapproval.

"Don't mistake happiness for lack of feeling, Kratos," she argued, pointing a finger at his chest and feeling slightly triumphant at the way his disconcerting, dubious eyes softened just a little. "Just because I'm not constantly crying doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. It just means I refuse to let it stop me. Happiness takes work. And I'm a hard worker."

More silence followed. This seemed to be a trend in their few conversations thus far. Her gaze roamed over his face, searching for some sort of response that didn't happen. She waited a few more seconds, her foot tapping impatiently, and was just about to call him out for being an insensitive emotionless jackass when he suddenly blurted:

"I wanted to be a chef."

Sara's mouth hung open for a few bewildered moments. Idly, she realized she could taste saltwater. "A… chef?"

"Yes. A chef. When I was younger, I had a penchant for cooking. Something about blending seasoning and texture was always very pleasing to me."

She blinked a few times and realized suddenly that this made a lot of sense. Cooking was an art form in and of itself - and much like his swordsmanship, it required finesse, training, and a willingness to learn.

"That… is wonderful, Kratos," she said, breathing a laugh and grinning wide enough that he could hear it. "What kinds of things did you like to cook? Any favorite ingredients?"

He narrowed his eyes in a way that would've been extremely intimidating if he hadn't actually been thinking about food. "I was always partial to fish, especially red snapper. I always wanted to make a dish with fresh summer vegetables and snapper seasoned with a touch of paprika. But the paprika was hard to come by, so I never had a chance."

"That sounds delicious," she said, still grinning. "What stopped you? From being a chef instead?"

"Responsibility. The path chosen for me." Something in his voice and the way he stood there felt ancient and tired. "I never did have much choice in my destiny."

Sara leaned over and playfully punched his shoulder. He glanced down at where her fist had made contact in a mixture of curiosity and surprise. It was clear from the look on his face that few people in his life had ever had the audacity to perform such a gesture. He wasn't quite sure how to respond, so he just stood there silently.

"Well, it's never too late," she said enthusiastically. "When we get to Palmacosta, let's stop by the market and buy some ingredients. It's the biggest city in Sylvarant, and I know for a fact they have a great selection."

Kratos stiffened, and she could've sworn that spiky hair of his bristled like a hedgehog's spines. "… As her protector, ensuring the Chosen's success is my first priority."

Sara narrowed her eyes, her lips pursing again as she quirked an eyebrow at him. Her fingertips drummed idly against the ship's railing.

He continued eyeing her warily. He found himself counting the freckles on her cheeks to give himself a reason to keep looking at her.

There were twelve on her right, by the way. Only eleven on her left, though.

"Okay, Kratos," she said knowingly. Either through intention or ignorance, she didn't acknowledge his prolonged, rather awkward stare, and instead met it with a lively smile. "Just, sometimes… live a little bit, okay? It wouldn't kill you."

And with that, she was brushing past him, walking off down the stairs to the main deck, twisting her torso back and forth to test her ribs as if she couldn't believe her own body. Her hands raised over her head as she stretched, and she spared one to wave at Raine and Colette as she approached. Colette instantly returned a friendly wave. Raine didn't appear to see her at all, as her cerulean eyes were still waging war with the sea.

Kratos stood there as if his boots had been nailed to the deck. A chef? What had he said? Just… _what?_

He realized that he would be extremely relieved if he never saw her again.

* * *

"Have you ever been on a ship before, Colette?" Sara asked the small blonde girl beside her.

Colette shook her head, and the bright midafternoon sun glinted off of the Cruxis Crystal at the base of her neck. The brooch surrounding it was delicate and beautiful, much like its owner, yet its golden surface paled in comparison to Colette's long, shining hair.

"Nope! I was a bit nervous at first, but I know with all of my friends here with me, I'll be okay." She looked up at Sara's much taller form with a kind smile. "What about you, Mrs. Sara?"

Sara turned her eyes to the vivid blue sky. "Ships were never my thing. I've always ridden the sky instead."

"You mean… " Raine began, swallowing hard and finally managing to focus on something other than the memory of sweet, sweet solid ground. Her face, for the moment, had returned to its normal pale peach instead of sickly green. "…riding dragons?"

"Yep," Sara agreed with a nod. "That's always been how I've supported myself. Sylvarant couldn't function without dragonriders. It's how the cities communicate, how gifts are delivered, how news is spread. I've been all over Sylvarant on a dragon's back. They're an important part of history." She glanced down at her gauntlets, which were each painstakingly inlaid with a detailed image of a dragon, wings spread wide in an intimidating stance.

"Important part of history… I suppose you're correct," Raine offered, a thoughtful look gracing her slender face. It was as if she'd suddenly gained a second wind, the vast ocean just a mere memory. "When we visited the first seal in the Triet Ruins, the Seal of Fire, there were dragon carvings all over the tomb's walls."

"It's said that Efreet's blood spawned the first dragons," Sara said wistfully. "Efreet's one true love was Celsuis, the Summon Spirit of Ice, but they could never be together peacefully. In trying to embrace Celsius, her freezing blades cut Efreet's vulnerable skin, and dragons were then born of his blood, as creatures of fire and passion."

"Remarkable," Raine breathed, her eyes wide with wonderment. "I'd never heard that legend before."

"Dragons have been demonized for a long time," Sara said with distaste, her hands idly curling into fists. "Bad people used them for bad reasons, and most stories fell out of knowledge. But dragons themselves are peaceful and intelligent and want nothing more than to exist freely. It's sort of like how the Desians ruined half-elves for the rest of Sylvarant."

A strange, hesitant look crossed Raine's face then, just long enough for Sara to notice, before her features returned to their normal sharp, calculating visage.

"Martel teaches us to never judge on appearance or bloodlines alone," Colette offered, her small voice now full of certainty. She seemed to glow for a moment. "She says that every life has meaning. Each person in this world is capable of unlimited good if given the chance."

Sara crossed her arms, looking down at the Chosen with a smirk of approval. "You know, I've never really bought into the whole Martel thing… but I like that, Colette. I like that a lot."

"Is… is it okay to ask why, Mrs. Sara?" Colette asked hopefully. Her youthful face was full of an unexpected, intense sincerity. "Why weren't you able to believe in Martel?"

"Y-yeah, sure," Sara responded softly. "When I was young, I… lost someone very special to me." She paused, her gaze dropping to the deck. "I was just a kid, years younger than you. And I was left with no one. I didn't understand how a loving Goddess could want to hurt me so much. I guess I just gave up on trying to believe after that."

There was a strained silence as Sara's words hung heavy in the salty air. She kept her eyes lowered to her boots, and only finally raised them when she felt her weathered, powerful hand being grasped in delicate and kind fingers.

The smile on Colette's face was shining and pure. Sara's hand was twice as long as hers as she held it confidently within her own.

"I understand that you've suffered a lot. I'm very sorry," the Chosen said genuinely. "And I know the Goddess Martel is too. Bad things happen, and not everything can be explained. But I really, truly believe that someday, your suffering - as well as all the world's - will have meaning. And everyone will finally be happy."

Sara gawked at this small, frail teenager. Never before had she encountered someone so full of purity and purpose; Colette had an effortless grace about her that was a veritable wonder to behold for someone like herself, who had seen, and done, one-too many terrible things.

"Th-thank you, Colette." Her fingers curled around Colette's and held on firmly for a few seconds before letting go. "You're… an amazing person. You're really the Chosen, aren't you?"

"Yes, she is," Raine agreed confidently, wearing a proud smile. "I've known Colette for many years. It's been only recently that I've had the pleasure of having her in my classroom."

"The Professor is a wonderful teacher," Colette said with enthusiasm.

"Are Genis and Lloyd your students too?" Sara asked, gesturing to the two boys still at the bow of the ship.

"Yes. As my brother, Genis has a knack for learning like I did as a child and needs very little direction," Raine said thoughtfully, just before her her shoulders slumped and she let out a dejected sigh. "Lloyd, however, is another matter…"

"Lloyd might not be the best at taking tests or completing homework," Colette began passionately, glancing over at the boy in red. She spoke of him like she spoke of Martel, almost as if he were himself a godlike figure. "But he is very brave, and always willing to help others. He's a great friend."

Sara was instantly beside Colette, elbowing the teenage girl in the arm and wearing a skeptical, playful grin. "Just a 'friend', huh? Are you _sure,_ Colette?"

Colette's pale cheeks became as red as Lloyd's proudly-Dwarven shirt. She pointed the tips of her fingers together nervously as she stared down at them. "Uh… I, um… Lloyd is just a very good friend." As if in proof, she grasped the pendant he'd made for her before their journey began, grasping it in her palm and showing it to both Sara and Raine proudly. "He made this for me the day before I set out on this Journey. He said it was to always remember our friendship."  
Sara and Raine exchanged a quiet, knowing glance.

"It's beautiful," Sara said with a smile.

* * *

Lloyd's hands were a little sweaty.

He might have been just a _little_ nervous.

Nevertheless, he gripped his twin swords with pride as he crossed them in front of his chest. The wind whipped his wild hair as he stared over his shining blades at the mercenary across from him, whose sword was stretched out before him in one confident arm, its tip hovering in the air.

"Are you ready?" Kratos asked calmly.

The rest of the Chosen's group was circled around the two swordsmen, each member with varying expressions of anticipation - Colette herself seemed slightly worried, while Raine and Sara looked on with an air of amusement. Genis was enthralled, holding his small fists against his sides, his blue eyes wide.

"I'm ready, Kra-"

Kratos didn't give Lloyd time to finish as he lunged forward with a swift thrust that Lloyd just managed to parry. Steel screamed against steel as sparks shot into the air. Lloyd turned for a low strike but Kratos was on the offensive again, impossibly quick, and he was forced into another block. One hand on his scabbard, Kratos swung his sword in quick, sweeping arcs, almost rhythmically, each time meeting Lloyd's blades. His face remained stony and expressionless, but his eyes seemed to come alive with every strike.

Lloyd grimaced, his arms quickly tiring. He managed a forward thrust that was hit effortlessly to one side. For a moment, he grinned confidently, seeing an opening - but that was parried with just as much ease. Yelling triumphantly, he lunged once more - but instead of merely blocking, Kratos slid his sword along the boy's until hilt met hilt, and with a practiced turn of his wrist, Lloyd's weapon was twisted from his hand and clattered noisily to the deck.

Breathing hard, Lloyd's wide brown eyes stared at the tip of Kratos' sword as it halted inches in front of his face. Kratos stood before him silently, his breaths steady and even as if he'd merely gone for a languid stroll.

Colette, Genis, Raine and Sara all applauded.

"Good job, Lloyd!" Colette exclaimed, smiling.

"Lloyd?" Genis scoffed, shooting the boy in red an unimpressed glare. "I was clapping for Kratos."

"Sh-shut up, Genis," Lloyd muttered. He picked up his fallen sword. "You were holding back though, right, Kratos?"

Kratos sheathed his blade and folded his arms across his chest. He flicked his hair flippantly to one side. "Obviously."

Sara snorted a loud, explosive laugh. She shrugged innocently as she met Lloyd's angry stare. "Oh come on, that was funny."

"What can I do better?" Lloyd asked the mercenary eagerly. His shoulders were squared tall and proud, his voice resolute. "I know I need practice, but I need to know what to work on. I want to become stronger!"

Kratos was quiet for a few moments as he raked Lloyd up and down with a calculating glare. "You have power, but it is inefficient. You must learn control, and how to fight with logic - not your emotions."

"Aren't those the same thing?" Lloyd asked, quirking one eyebrow. "I mean, my emotions give me my logic! How do I separate them?"

The mercenary shook his head. "That is something you must find out for yourself. No amount of instruction can teach such a thing. Only experience can."

Lloyd grinned as he nodded. He shot one fist into the salty air. "Then I'll get as much experience as I can! Someday I'll be as strong as you, Kratos."

There was a faint flicker of a smile across Kratos' half-hidden face. "If you are able to maintain that enthusiasm… You will grow strong, Lloyd." His icy look was back quickly. "But you mustn't forget: overconfidence breeds carelessness."

"You need to focus," Raine agreed, narrowing her eyes as she absently tapped her staff on the deck. "Just like I've always told you in class."

Lloyd cringed, remembering the many days he'd spent holding water buckets as punishment for misbehaving, and the numerous times he'd been hit in the head with blackboard-chalk missiles after falling asleep during one of Raine's lessons.

He glanced at Colette, who gave him a kind, encouraging smile.

"I'll do whatever it takes," he promised.

* * *

Palmacosta's sprawling profile eased steadily closer. Behind it rose neverending forested mountains and hills; the continent was largely uninhabited except for Palmacosta itself and a few other sparse settlements. Marinas and docks dotted the beach all along the city's coast. A handful of other ships could be seen nearby on the water, out for fishing, travel, or scouting for monsters.

Though a reluctant captain, Max had seen his ship and its crew safely to their destination. The trip had not been unpleasant, but there was still a palpable sense of relief from everyone on board as they finally docked and Max had securely moored the vessel. Unlike Izoold, Palmacosta's port was buzzing with activity and most of the docks were occupied. The air smelled heavily of fish and saltwater, but other scents of smoked meats and spices could be detected wafting from the port's neighboring market. Gull cries mingled with the steady sound of voices and waves against the docks in constant cacophony.

"Thanks, Max," Lloyd said to the captain as he and the others disembarked. He held out one hand and, though somewhat surprised, Max grasped it for a quick shake. "What are you going to do now?"

Max frowned, gesturing his head to a large, military-style ship nearby, one of many, as part of Palmacosta's expansive army. "I'll request escort from a Palmacosta warship or something…"

"Sorry for making you take us all the way out here," Lloyd offered with a nervous smile. "Be careful on your way back."

Max nodded. "Well, take care."

Lloyd then headed after the others, who were waiting for him at the entrance to the dock. Genis was grinning at his sister, whose relieved, ecstatic face looked as if she'd just received the best news of her life. She stared down lovingly at the solid ground beneath her feet as if resisting the urge to bend down and kiss it.

Sara had one arm around Colette; the other was performing dramatic, animated gestures as she explained to the young girl what had happened during one of her previous visits to Palmacosta (something involving being attacked by a giant squid that ended up as delicious calimari). Enthralled, Colette's eyes were wide with wonderment. Kratos was listening too, although with practiced disinterest as his calculating, sharp gaze travelled around the area for potential threats.

"Okay, guys!" Lloyd announced, drawing the group's attention. "Let's go look for clues about the next seal."

"We should probably purchase some supplies while we're here," Raine said, glancing down into the bag at her hip. "We only have a handful of gels left, and are running low on food as well. It could be a long trek to find the next seal."

"Do you have any clues as to where it might be?" Sara asked.

"The angel just said 'far to the east across the sea,'" Genis explained, hefting his pack higher onto one shoulder.

"The last seal was fire, right? So you've got at least water and wind left," Sara mused, mostly to herself. Her lips pursed thoughtfully. "Maybe there's one at the Thoda Geyser. Nothing but water there."

"That's a good place to start," Lloyd agreed with a nod.

"Then let us be on our way," Kratos said, as he turned and headed towards the city. "The Palmacosta market is not far. We can stop there first."

Five Apple Gels, four Orange Gels, a couple Life and Panacea bottles, and about a dozen food ingredients later, the Chosen's group had waded through the bustling market and to downtown Palmacosta's entrance. Canals ran through its structure like a series of watery veins, many of which seemed to take the place of actual roads. Water was clearly the lifeblood of the city's infrastructure and livelihood, and this was reflected in its colors, which consisted mainly of blues and greens with the occasional brown or terracotta.

Raine, Genis, Kratos, Colette and Lloyd were all waiting for Sara, who for whatever reason had told them to hold on while she dashed back into the market to purchase something else. A few minutes later, she returned with a brown paper bag that looked full to bursting. She removed her pack and just barely managed to stuff the bag in beside the rest of her supplies.

"Sorry guys," she said as she slung her pack onto her shoulder once more. "Just forgot something."

As they all turned to leave, Kratos caught her giving him a weird, scheming smile. He returned it with a frown, but she just smiled wider.

The wooden docks gradually transformed into stone streets that were lined on all sides with various shops and residences, all of which seemed to be made from the same stucco-type material - just painted different hues. Plant life was everywhere in clay pots, an array of brightly colored flowers on windowsills, doorways, tables and every place in between.

They approached the side of a clothing shop that was lined with windows, in which were placed several mannequins wearing strange and apparently high-fashion womens' outfits. Raine was disinterested entirely, instead looking downwards at the mixture of stones that the street had been made from. Sara wrinkled her nose in disgust, but Colette looked as if she were beholding Martel herself. She was just about to turn to Lloyd and ask for his opinion on how it would look on her, when she rounded a corner and ran straight into another woman with a loud, painful thud.

They both shouted in surprise and tumbled to the ground, and apparently the stranger had been carrying a bottle of sweet-smelling red liquid, because it was now shattered in dozens of pieces and spread in a puddle on the side of the street.

Genis sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "There she goes again…"

The strange woman was dressed in a brown tunic and long beige skirt. Her bluish-green hair was held back with a headband, but strands had popped free in her fall and now dangled over her narrowed eyes as she glared at Colette.

"Owww! What did you do that for?" Her voice was high and nasally and just generally unpleasant.

There were five of her apparent companions that approached from around the corner - three were young men, one of whom was rather beefy with spiky brown hair oddly similar to Lloyd's, and who wore a set of tarnished steel armor. The second had a large frame, yet wore simple clothes - although his face and the way he stood resembled more of an ape than man. The last was a younger boy, whose intelligent expression and book of spells made it clear he was proficient at magic.

Beside him were two women who looked around the same age of mid-20s. One woman was dressed like a mage, complete with light blue robes and matching pointed hat, while the other embodied a stereotypical tomboy with baggy pants, short hair, and a cropped cutoff shirt.

None of them looked very happy.

Lloyd stepped up beside Colette, who gratefully took his hand as he helped her to her feet.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Colette said to the strangers, her face flushing brightly.

As she stood, wincing, Colette's clumsiness victim gazed down in horror at the smashed bottle, its contents now seeping into the gutter. "Ahh! The Palma Potion we just received!"

"Hey, lady," the armored man started, pointing one finger accusingly at Colette. "That was a very valuable potion you ruined!"

The ape-man kind of huffed in agreement, crossing his burly arms over his chest. His face remained flat and rather clueless, however.

"Hey, _buddy_ ," Sara said thinly, hands on her hips. "It was half your friend's fault too, you know."

"Whatever!" the beefy one countered with a scoff, gesturing his square chin in Colette's direction. "It was all her! How are you planning on making up for this?"

Colette clasped her hands and bowed her head earnestly. "I'll buy a replacement potion right away!"

"'Replacement potion'?" Mr. Beefcake echoed incredulously, looking at Colette as if she were an idiot. "Do you seriously think that's going to be enough to appease my anger?"

Lloyd rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. Now you just sound like an idiot."

"Couldn't have said it better," Genis agreed with a smirk.

The man gawked at them as if he couldn't believe what he just heard. " _What_ did you say? Do you know who we are?"

Lloyd held his hands out to his sides expectantly. "And I should care because…?"

The last of Beefcake's patience snapped, and he growled as he started towards Lloyd, his hands curled into fists. "Why, you little…"

"Stop," the mage woman commanded, shaking her behatted head as she met her companion's fuming glare. "I'd like to leave here as soon as we can. Don't start any unnecessary trouble."

"I agree," the clumsiness victim said.

"Bah," the Beefcake sighed, throwing his hands in the air. "You got off lucky this time, kid. Hurry up and go buy that potion."

Lloyd held one hand to Colette's shoulder. "There's no need to bother, Colette..."

"No," the Chosen said resolutely, although her palms met before her in a nervous gesture. "I ran into them, so I have to pay for it."

Lloyd's shoulders slumped in defeat. "...Fine. All right."

"We'll be waiting," Beefcake added with one last tilt of his chin.

The Chosen's group turned to head the opposite direction, towards the east side of town and into the main city. Beefcake's group watched them leave, their glares of hatred burning holes in everyone's backs.

Colette was the only one who didn't seem fazed, and contrarily appeared determined to set things right and make amends. Kratos, as usual, was full of persistent neutrality, whereas Lloyd, Genis and Sara shared the same embers of anger, on the verge of becoming blistering flames. Raine seemed to be watching the whole exchange with a form of detached amusement.

"You know," Lloyd mused, shooting a glance back at the strange group of troublemakers. "When you think about it, those guys look like they're copying us."

"What do you mean?" Sara asked, idly polishing the edge of one of her gauntlets with gloved fingers. "They seem way more uptight than we do..."

"The makeup of their group does seem to correspond to ours," Genis added thoughtfully. "They have the same ratio of males to females, and all around the same age..."

Raine shot Lloyd a sidelong, cynical glance. "Then I suppose that would make their ignoble leader Lloyd."

"Hahahaha! Yeah, he's just like him," Genis laughed. Lloyd protested with a whine that Genis ignored.

"And the one Colette ran into would be... well, Colette," Raine continued. Colette seemed a bit lost as she nodded her golden head in agreement.

"Then the magic users would be us," Genis added, gesturing to his sister. He paused, turning to face the others with one small hand held thoughtfully to his chin as his eyes looked over them with scrutiny.

"The gross tomboy would have to be Sara," he determined finally.

Sara's eyes thinned. "How very _observant_ of you, Genis."

"So, then..." Genis continued, a sense of realization dawning on his youthful face that was quickly replaced by a grin. "The one that looks like the big ape would have to be..."

"Kratos!" the group said in unison, save for the subject of their speech, whose only response was a narrowing of his garnet eyes and brief _humph_ that could've just as easily been disagreement as well as halfhearted approval.

"He _is_ just as quiet," Raine agreed factually. An oddly-shaped stone at her feet caught her attention, and she barely avoided bumping into Colette as she stared down at it.

"And they seemed about the same height," Lloyd added.

Kratos glanced at the boy but continued walking ahead with his usual unbroken stride, emotionless and indifferent.

"Hey now," Sara began with an innocent, toothy grin. "Kratos doesn't seem quite as..."

"Stupid?" the mercenary offered, quirking one eyebrow from behind his veil of spiky hair.

Sara raised her hands in prostration. "Well, I was going to say 'ugly,' but I guess that works too."

"Hey, look there," Lloyd interjected, pointing to a shop just in front of them. It was rather small and simple, located adjacent to an inn that stood nearly twice as tall - but through the windows there seemed to be a decent selection of items. On one shelf appeared to be a bottle of the much-contested Palma Potion.

"Oh, good," Colette said hopefully. "Let's go inside and see what's for sale!"

The shop was cozy, with a viridian-colored plush carpet and a stained wooden counter that ran in an L-shape in front of laden shelves. It smelled of sweets, a refreshing combination of chocolate and peppermint. But as the Chosen's group shuffled inside awkwardly, nearly too big for the small space, it became clear that what was happening in the simple shop was anything but sweet or pleasant.

A pair of male Desians stood before the counter. Their worn steel armor had obviously seen much use in battle. They were speaking with a young woman on the far side of the counter, whose dark chestnut hair was pulled into a ponytail. Her youthful face was full of a passionate, defiant fire that matched her rigid posture and the way her thin arms were folded across the tunic at her chest.

The swords at the Desians' hips were still sheathed, but in each of their hands they held a coiled whip, which twitched anxiously, as if eagerly awaiting any opportunity for use.

"Oh please," the brown-haired shop girl began with a roll of her eyes. Her voice was bright, full of intelligence and independence. "There's no way anyone would sell those to you at a price that low!"

The Chosen's group stopped abruptly in the entryway. Colette, Genis and Raine looked on worriedly. Lloyd's hands rested instinctively on the hilts of his twin blades, his face a mask of grim sincerity. Sara's spine straightened as if a chill had suddenly shot through it, while Kratos slowly and subtly readied to draw his sword.

The first Desian soldier stepped closer to the counter. He smirked, setting his whip atop its wooden surface.

"You should be thankful that we're even willing to spend money for goods from a rundown shack like this," he spat.

The girl shook her head, her eyes narrowing. "I don't need to hear that from a bunch of filthy Desians! I'm not going to sell one single gel to the likes of you."

"Chocolat, stop!"

The command came from a new voice at the left side of the shop, near where a doorway led up to the second floor. Its owner was a middle-aged woman whose weathered face, contrarily to the younger girls', was full of apprehension and worry.

"But Mom," Chocolat argued. "These are the same monsters that took Grandma away!"

The whip that the Desian soldier had placed on the counter now rapped on its worn surface in a steady rhythm. "You've got some nerve talking to us like that, little girl," he sneered from beneath his helmet. "You keep that up, and we can't guarantee what'll happen to you or this city."

Sara's restraint snapped almost audibly. Her hunting eyes locked on to the Desian's back. Before she really knew what she was doing, anger had shoved her two steps forward towards the soldier, her arms tense beside her, practiced fingers curling into claws.

Kratos instantly held out one solid arm to block her. She ran into it unexpectedly, and her head snapped up, her embroiled gaze meeting his as she gripped his forearm in an attempt to clear her path forward.

"I can't take it. I can't just _stand_ here, dammit..."

The mercenary stared back at her silently for several seconds before he shook his head in calm, wordless disagreement. Now was not the time to raise hell. She seemed to trust his judgment for the moment, releasing a rough breath and remaining still. Her hand never moved, however, those trembling fingers digging into his arm as she wrestled her rage into submission.

"Just try it," Chocolat continued. "As long as Governor-General Dorr is around, we'll never submit to the likes of _you!_ "

That seemed to be the last straw for the Desian soldier, who grabbed the handle of his whip and began lifting it over his head. "You little -"

"Stop!" the second soldier commanded firmly. His charge obeyed without hesitation, despite his obvious eagerness to continue.

"We'll exceed our quota for this year. We need permission from Lord Magnius to go any further."

"Fine," the other whined, returning his whip to his side and turning away from Chocolat, who still stared at him with the fires of hell itself.

Their leader drew his sword and pointed it straight at her. She never flinched. "Depending on Lord Magnius' mood, you might or might not get to keep that pretty little head of yours!"

The pair then turned to leave, apparently caught up in their current mission judging by the annoyed, disinterested stares they gave the Chosen's group as they exited the front door.

The air inside the shop seemed to clear, filling with a palpable sense of relief and relaxation, as if everything had been frozen solid and had suddenly thawed all at once. Lloyd relaxed his hands from swords. Sara released her brutal grip on Kratos' arm, who seemed not to notice her at all. Genis outrightly sighed, his eyes rolling thankfully to the ceiling.

"Well then," Chocolat said at length, as if nothing had happened at all. There was a canvas satchel beneath the counter which she grabbed and slung over her shoulder. She flicked her long hair to clear it from the strap. "I'm off to work now, Mom."

The older woman at the shop's other end simply nodded, although she pulled the shawl around her shoulders closer to her chest as she did so. "Take care," she said softly.

Chocolat herself now headed to the exit without another word or wayward glance. The room was quiet except for her determined steps along the carpeted floor. The front door shut with a harsh slam, rattling the bell at the entrance, which jingled merrily for a few seconds afterwards, unperturbed.

"I apologize for what happened," the remaining woman said to the Chosen's group with a regretful nod. "I'm sure you were startled. I am Cacao, Chocolat's mother and owner of this shop. Welcome. Please, relax and take a look around."

"Please don't apologize," Raine protested, stepping up to the counter. "We understand how… _difficult_ the Desians can make one's life. Would you happen to have any Palma Potion for sale?"

"Oh yes," Cacao said enthusiastically, turning around and picking up a dark blue bottle with a red label from the shelf behind her. She set it gently onto the counter. "We just got a shipment in this morning. Here you go. That will be 1,000 gald, please."

Colette's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in disbelief, but Raine simply handed over the gald without any questions.

"Thank you," the Professor said pointedly. "Please take care."

Cacao nodded respectfully, her withered eyes closing for just a moment too long as she gave the group a respectful bow. "You as well."


	6. Primus (First)

Chapter Six

 _Primus_

* * *

Sara watched her boots as they moved steadily along the stone street. Her shoulders were rigid, both hands pressed into tense fists.

"Even here," she mumbled, her voice low and dark. "They're affecting lives even in Palmacosta..."

Lloyd was beside her, and he gave her a reassuring smile that seemed to collapse after a few moments, as if the thought behind it was fleeting.

"But that's why we're on this Journey," he said, to himself as much as to her. "We're going to help Colette get rid of the Desians and regenerate the world."

"Yep. I'll do my best for the sake of everyone," the Chosen agreed brightly.

"I think the people of Palmacosta are brave," Genis added, gazing around the city streets with a sense of wonderment.

"Yeah, they _are_ facing up to the Desians, even though it's a shame they have to at all." Lloyd looked over at the way Sara's head hung low, with her shoulders slumped under some burdensome invisible weight. It looked familiar. He tried to smile. "That's a bright side, see, Sara?"

Her eyes raised to his, almost startled, as if she had been suddenly jarred from a distant thought. "You're right, Lloyd. Thanks."

"I wish I could show this to the people of Iselia," Genis said softly. He adjusted one strap of his backpack and exchanged a wistful, downtrodden nod with Lloyd.

"Why?" Sara asked, glancing back and forth between both boys. "What happened in Iselia?"

Raine, Colette, Genis and Lloyd were all quiet for several moments. A heavy silence hung in the air around them before Lloyd finally managed to speak. He felt heat from memory's fire, smelled that tepid smoke of burning homes. Saw those enraged, hateful glares of Iselia's villagers - so many of whom he had known and trusted - as he took his last steps through its main entryway.

"It was attacked by Desians," he said slowly. "The Desians thought Iselia had broken its non-aggression treaty. It was… because of me."

"Me, too, Lloyd," Genis added, nudging the boy's arm. "I won't let you take the blame by yourself."

"Thanks, Genis," Lloyd said, once again grateful for his good friend's support that many times he felt undeserving of. "We were trying to help someone imprisoned at the ranch when the Desians spotted us. They blamed the entire village for something we did."

"...I'm sorry," Sara managed. She shook her head quickly as if to clear it from dust or cobwebs. "I didn't mean to ask such a loaded question." Her smile came back, slowly, hesitantly, but with double its warmth. Lloyd thought for a minute that he might've seen the first hints of tears - but then she blinked, and it was gone.

"But I'm sure whoever you were trying to help was grateful," she continued gently. "Even if the consequences were unintended."

"I know she was," Genis said quietly. He remembered Marble's gentle voice, and the way her kind, wrinkled face would brighten each time he visited. He realized, suddenly, that it had all been worth it.

Lloyd released a burdened breath. "I just wish it hadn't gone so wrong."

"Hey, you went into it with good intentions, didn't you?" Empathy burned in Sara's chest; Lloyd had been so relentlessly kind to her so many times, and to see him suffer was difficult to watch. She fought the strange, almost motherly urge to hug him and take everything bad away.

"That's what matters, Lloyd. All you can do is learn from the past and keep moving forward." She paused to lean over and bump her shoulder against his, smiling with encouragement. "Bright side, right?"

He looked up at her hopeful freckled face and nodded. "Y-yeah. That's what matters."

Raine cleared her throat, drawing their sudden attention. She did not entirely appreciate what she viewed as Sara's rather careless attitude towards what had been the biggest disaster her village had ever faced. Homes and lives had been utterly destroyed… Perhaps it was the fact that, as Lloyd's teacher, Raine felt obligated to make sure he learned the hard lessons as well as the comforting ones that came easy. Or maybe it was just because Sara was still an outsider, and hadn't yet earned her trust.

Still - Sara's intentions were from someplace good, and Raine had to remind herself that that fact, in and of itself, was something to value. She held her tongue and sighed. The much-contested bottle of Palma Potion rested in her left arm, and she found her fingers tightening around its glassy surface of their own accord.

"Our... _best friends_ are not far ahead," she said cynically. "Let's hope this 'boon of forgiveness' is enough, and we can continue moving forward. We can't afford to waste more time."

* * *

"It must be exhausting," Genis muttered to his sister. They and the rest of the Chosen's group now stood before their grumpy counterparts on the streets of Palmacosta, Palma Potion in hand. Raine's eyes flicked down to her brother in a silent question before returning to glare at the group's hotheaded leader.

"Being so angry about something so dumb," he finished under his breath.

"It's about time," the armored, spiky-haired man shouted with grand exasperation. "Do you have it or what?"

Lloyd bristled as he took the bottle from the Professor's offered hand and passed it to him. "...Here."

"All right then. Looks like you're good little boys and girls after all," the man sneered, arrogantly tilting his square (and rather buttish) chin upwards. "Just make sure you learn your lesson and don't mess with us again."

"I'll teach _him_ a lesson," Lloyd grumbled, idly gripping the hilt of his right sword as he turned away.

Colette, contrarily, stepped forward with her hands clasped in front of her as she nodded earnestly. "Yes. I'll be careful."

"Come on," the mage-woman said, motioning for her entourage to follow. "We're _leaving_!"

"I have to say, that Governor-General Dorr sure was trusting," the original clumsiness-victim stated to her companion (aka Sara's Ugly Lookalike). The group of them turned to leave, finally, the tail end of their conversation just loud enough for Colette and the others to overhear. "It's hard to believe he just gave us his family treasure like that."

"So what are we going to do with that, anyway?" This time the smaller magic-using boy spoke, his steps twice as frequent as those of his older companions.

"You're an idiot," hothead countered with a scoff. "We're just going to sell it to that geezer on Hakonesia Peak who collects old junk." Eventually distance ended the dialogue for them, their perturbed voices blending in with gull cries and the water steadily lapping against the walls of a nearby canal.

"That's the second time someone has mentioned this Dorr person," Raine said thoughtfully as she watched the other group disappear around the corner.

"It sounds like he's the leader here," Lloyd offered. "He seems to be doing a good job of leading everyone, after meeting that girl from the shop."

"Let's speak with him next," Raine said with a nod.

"The government building is on the other side of town," Sara said, gesturing over her shoulder and to a tall stone structure not too far in the distance. "If he's in Palmacosta, that's where he'll be."

The city steadily grew, spreading and opening wider, welcoming all new visitors to its heart. Main streets became saturated, bustling with the end of the day's activities; vendors sold the last of their catch as shopowners began sweeping their doorways and closing their curtains. The sky showed the first few hints of dusk as, behind the sparse clouds, hues of orange and pink began spilling with brilliant, beaming blue.

As the Chosen's group crossed a small granite bridge into the city's expansive main plaza, a boy of about eight or nine years dashed by them at a sprint, breathing hard. Although it was difficult to tell from the brief glimpse, it seemed as if there were tears shining in his large, wide eyes.

Colette and Lloyd, in the lead of the group, halted instantly as the boy ran past, exchanging worried glances. The others followed suit, with Raine and Genis pausing behind them, and lastly Sara and Kratos, whose attentive garnet gaze followed the boy's path.

A bearded blonde man in deep purple and lavender robes stood in the plaza's center. Beside him was a young, bright-eyed girl with springy blonde pigtails, and both she and the man beside her looked at the sprinting boy with surprise as he halted just in front of them, speaking in between fevered gulps of air.

"Governor-General Dorr!" the boy began desperately, shaking his brunet head as he wiped his eyes with the back of one small, trembling hand. "Dad was taken away to the ranch and hasn't come back. Even though I've been a good boy!"

The blond man now known as Dorr managed a forced smile as he rested one broad hand on the boy's hiccupping shoulder. His eyes creased at their corners, and the rest of his face showed similar signs of more than just simple aging, but also the wear of someone responsible for the lives of others. "Hang on just a little longer. I promised, remember? I'll save everyone who's been taken away to the ranch."

"But…" the boy began, biting back more big, unstoppable tears. "I'm lonely…"

Sara's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the boy. One hand curled into a fist over her heart. Beside her, Kratos studied the sudden shift in her mood with cool, repressed interest.

Dorr's young blonde girl spoke up this time. She tugged on his robes and nodded, her small face stretching into a proud smile. Her voice was pert and high, full of youthful surety.

"Don't worry. Father is a friend of everyone in this city. My mother died of an illness, but your father should still be alive." She nodded her golden head, swaying large, curly pigtails. "I'm sure he'll come back."

"...Really?" the boy breathed, hope leaping into his young, tear-stained face.

"Yes," Dorr affirmed proudly, straightening his back. The bottom inch of his robes pulled off of the ground and swayed just above his sandals. He smiled, though something in his eyes seemed dead. "They were all taken away because they fought back against the Desians. I swear I'll rescue them."

"...Okay," the boy said slowly. He paused, and seemed to recite a courageous dialogue in his mind, because his withered frame straightened and he nodded to Dorr resolutely. "I'll wait for Dad to come back."

"Good boy," Dorr muttered as he grasped the pigtailed girl's hand and turned to leave. "Let's go, Kilia."

"Yes, father." The two of them headed west across the plaza and eventually up the stairs of a regal building, where a pair of armored guards, in full, gleaming metal armor suits and brandishing giant axes, opened large wooden doors as they approached. Dorr and the girl disappeared inside, and the doors were closed behind them with a resounding slam.

"So that was Dorr," Lloyd thought aloud. He glanced at Colette, who gave him a small smile.

"He seems like a great man," the Chosen added with a nod.

Just ahead of them on the bridge, an elderly couple paused in their evening walk to face Lloyd, Colette and the others, having overheard their comments. The man spoke first, his expression kind and sincere as he leaned one arm heavily on his wooden cane.

"The Governor-General is recruiting soldiers and resisting the Desians. He's a wonderful man."

The older woman nodded in agreement. The way she spoke of Dorr was similar to how the Chosen often spoke of Martel. "After losing his wife to an illness, he's raised his daughter Kilia all by himself…"

"An honorable thing to do," Raine said somewhat wistfully.

"As long as Governor-General Dorr is here, we won't submit to the Desians. Even if we're carried off the ranch, Dorr will come save us," the man continued. He exchanged a look of steadfast determination with the woman beside him. "We believe in him."

"The people of the city are all so strong," Colette marveled. "It's amazing…"

Sara suddenly strode past all of them, her gaze still fixated on the boy who now stood alone in the center of the busy plaza. The rest of the Chosen's group watched with a mixture of concern and curiosity as she approached him, her stride slowing as she moved closer, until she eventually paused behind his small, still form.

"Hey," she said brightly.

Startled, the boy's shoulders jerked as he whipped around to face her, his watery blue eyes wide. He relaxed a bit, though, at her broad, beaming grin and the way she got down onto one knee to be on his level.

"My name is Sara. What's yours?"

He sniffled, shrinking back from her slightly as he wiped his eyes again. "T-Tony…"

"Hi, Tony." She held out one hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Still rather surprised, the boy blinked at her offered hand for several seconds before eventually reaching out and giving it a quick, hesitant shake.

"I heard you say you felt lonely," Sara continued, her voice as soft as her eyes. "Being lonely is hard, isn't it?"

At this, Tony didn't hesitate at all. His shaggy brown head nodded several times. "I miss my dad…"

"I'm sure you do, Tony. It's okay to miss him." She cleared her throat and took in a breath, as if to steel herself. One of her shoulders lowered, and she slid her pack off of it and onto the ground. "I feel lonely sometimes, too. I want to show you my friend, okay?"

"O-okay," Tony murmured, transfixed. He watched with a slightly open mouth as Sara dug into her pack to pull out a small, plush figurine of a dragon. It was rather tattered; one of its wings had been obviously repaired with a completely different kind of string than the rest of its seams, and it was missing one eye. Patches of its red fur were bare and had been replaced many times over with something resembling canvas.

"This is One-Eyed Jack. He's been my friend for a long time. And he's _really_ awesome at helping people not feel lonely." The grin was back on Sara's face again as she held the toy in front of her in one hand. She leaned closer to Tony, whispering, sharing with him a valuable and precious secret: "He wants to help you too. He told me."

"H-he did?" Tony breathed, awed. The first hints of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Yep," Sara chirped with a bubbly nod. "He might look kinda mean, but inside, he's just soft and cuddly. Would it be okay if you took him with you?"

"Yeah!" The boy reached out and grasped the figurine, holding it up before his face as he made its wings flop up and down. Its remaining black, beaded eye glinted in the sun, an inanimate wink of agreement. "Let's be friends, Jack!"

"You've made him super happy, Tony," Sara said, her voice wavering just a bit through her smile. She stood, slinging her pack onto her shoulder once more. "Take care of him, okay?"

"I will," he said proudly, clutching the toy against his chest. "I should go home now. Thank you, Sara lady."

"You're welcome. Now go on, before it gets too late."

And with that, Tony beamed and dashed back over the bridge, his brown hair waving, and One-Eyed Jack's misshapen wings catching the air in handheld flight.

Sara returned to her companions, hiding her eyes beneath fiery bangs. The remainders of a broad smile still touched her face. She took in a long, bracing breath and let it all out in a rush.

"Okay, where were we? Going to meet Dorr, right?"

"Was that yours?" Kratos asked suddenly. He stepped up in front of Raine, Genis, Lloyd and Colette, who were all watching him with peculiar expressions. One hand rested idly against the leather scabbard of his longsword.

Sara's eyes raised to his in a silent question.

"The toy you gave him," the mercenary continued. "Was it yours?"

She shrugged with what he could tell was an obvious, forced sense of apathy. "...He needed it more than me."

Kratos remained still, his gaze even as it held hers. His question had a strange air of importance, as if he were demanding some sort of vital, important information: "Why did you do it?"

She shrugged again, and glanced away to a peek of the ocean offered between a pair of buildings. "He just… reminded me of someone. That's all. Now let's go, okay?"

Kratos said nothing. He continued looking at her for few moments longer, even as she turned and began walking once more.

"I thought it was very nice of you!" Colette said cheerfully. She and her group continued ahead towards the grand wooden doors that the Governor-General had passed through not long ago. "I'm sure you made him happy."

"Thanks, Colette," Sara managed, catching the golden-haired girl's brilliant smile. "I hope so."

* * *

The Governor-General's office was decorated simply, and its furnishings spoke of a place more suited for common business practices than lawmaking. Sylvarant's flags were arranged in the far corner, some hung from flagpoles and others proudly stretched out on the dark green wall. Stained chestnut tables were arranged to face the front entrance, and Dorr himself sat at one, with a spread of documents and books laid out before him on the regal wooden surface.

Another man, younger, and with dark bluish-green hair, was nearby, perusing his own collection of paperwork. Kilia, the pigtailed girl from earlier, was beside him in a chair that could've fit three of her, her small legs swaying back and forth above the carpeted floor.

She glanced up at the Chosen's group as they entered. Dorr's gaze followed a moment after. His expression was friendly as he stood, holding his arms out to his sides.

"Greetings, travelers! We welcome travelers, as per the teachings of Martel. May the blessing of Martel be upon those who journey."

"Thank you," Colette said with a practiced bow of her head.

"By the way," Dorr continued. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked the group of them over, noting their somewhat strange collection of outfits and how each companion had some sort of weapon, be it blade or staff. "May I ask where you have come from? Are you on a pilgrimage for Martel?"

"Ah, we came from Iselia," Lloyd offered. He glanced proudly at Colette beside him. "We're on the journey for world regeneration."

The air in the room seemed to abruptly shift. Dorr's friendly demeanor dropped as quickly as his hands did to his sides. "World regeneration?..."

Genis stepped up beside his friends and gestured to the blonde girl next to him. "Colette here is the Chosen of Mana. The Tower of Salvation appeared, right?"

Dorr's mouth thinned into a tight frown. He raked his gaze over Colette's small form. "...Are you saying that you are the Chosen?"

With a nervous laugh, Colette smiled. "Ah, um, yes. It seems that way, anyway."

Dorr exchanged an alarmed, skeptical glance with Neil, the younger man.

"Governor-General Dorr," Neil said tensely.

"Yes…" The Governor-General threw out a hand and pointed an accusing finger at Colette. His voice had transformed from kind to loud and deadly. "The Chosen was just here moments ago! How dare you defile that name!"

"Wh-what?!" Lloyd exclaimed, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

"These despicable criminals must be arrested and turned over to the church at once!" Dorr demanded. Those giant armored guards that had before been so calmly guarding the front door now burst into action, their axes held in menacing preparation for a strike, each step of their heavy feet sending trembles through the wooden floor.

Kratos had his sword drawn in less than a second, and instead of retreating, he took several confident steps forward. His cinnamon eyes narrowed as his hands tightened around his sword's hilt. Raine's shoulders squared as she pointed the suddenly glowing tip of her staff at the pair of them, while her brother and Lloyd simply stood there, bewildered. Sara frowned and planted her feet firmly in front of Colette, who was the last one to notice anything amiss as she turned around to face the others - and in doing so, caught her foot on a corner of the ornate rug beneath them all.

Her arms spun in a futile attempt to correct her balance as she tumbled to the floor, landing straight onto her rump with a thud. A glittering, ethereal pair of angel wings burst forth from her back, shining with hues of pink and blue, hovering atop her shoulders as they fluttered. She grimaced, her face flushing as brightly as her feathers.

The guards halted instantly as if given a silent order. Dorr and Neil wore the same stunned expression as they exchanged looks of surprise.

"Wow! Father, did you see?!" Kilia shouted, hopping excitedly from her chair and onto the floor. "She has wings! She's like an angel! They're beautiful!"

"W...wait! Everyone, lower your weapons!" Neil shouted. Colette's wings cast a pale pinkish light onto his stunned face. "This person before us is without a doubt the Chosen of Mana!"

Obediently, the guards retreated to their positions beside the front doors, their axes once again becoming more decoration than weapon. Kratos returned his blade to its scabbard while the rest of the Chosen's group breathed a relieved sigh.

"There is no mistaking the angel wings that are on your back!" Neil continued, bowing repeatedly. "Please forgive our insolence, Chosen One."

"Ah, um…" Colette stammered, putting away the disobedient wings that had saved them all. "Please, it's okay. Um, um… it's all right, really." She forced a smile onto her still-blushing face. "Everyone tells me I'm not very Chosen-like at all."

Dorr leaned forward suddenly, as if an invisible weight had just settled onto his shoulders. He placed his palms onto the table. "But this means… The Chosen we gave the Book of Regeneration to was an imposter?!"

"Wait a minute," Lloyd shouted, taking a step closer to the Governor-General. "You said something about the Chosen coming here already. What is the Book of Regeneration? What's going on?"

"The Book of Regeneration is a record of Spiritua's journey," Neil offered sadly. "It is the only document containing detailed records of the world regeneration, and it is a precious heirloom passed down through the generations of Governor-Generals of Palmacosta."

"That's it!" Genis beamed, glancing enthusiastically up at his sister. "With that, we won't have any trouble finding the seals!"

Raine's sharp slate-blue eyes were thinned dangerously. Behind them was something akin to hellfire itself. "And you say you handed over this invaluable book to a random person claiming to be 'The Chosen'?" She gripped her staff so hard that her knuckles began turning white. "...Unbelievable."

Sara's eyes widened at the Professor. She gingerly took a few silent steps backwards, ending up behind Colette, who was used as an oblivious human shield.

Lloyd snapped his fingers once. "...Of course! It must be those guys that were giving us trouble earlier!"

Neil swallowed hard. "We had received information that the Chosen's group was headed this way, so we naturally thought that was them…"

Genis had his hands balled into fists at his sides as he scowled at Dorr and his assistant. "Are you stupid or something?! Now what are we supposed to do?!"

"I am terribly sorry…" Neil managed, looking down at his feet.

"I can't believe this!" Genis continued, his small voice saturated with disgust. "Do you use your eyes at all, or are they just there for decoration? You humans are-"

 _Smack!_

His sister's hand cracked against his cheek and stopped him short. His scowl deepened as he rubbed his cheek tenderly, glaring up at Raine through tendrils of silver-white bangs. " _Ow_!"

"Genis, that's enough," the Professor admonished, and though her tone was hushed, it was no less intimidating. Her sibling relented, though his scowl didn't.

"Governor-General," Lloyd began. "You don't happen to remember the contents of that whatever-its-called book, do you?"

" _Book of Regeneration_ ," Raine corrected under her breath.

Dorr sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid not… It is, after all, written in the language of the angels, so only members of the church can read it."

Colette's face lit up. "Oh, I know! Let's try asking at the church. Maybe the priests know something."

"The priests have all returned home for the day," Neil said, glancing at a clock on one of the chamber's walls. "Perhaps you all would like to stay at the Skipper's Haven for tonight? It's Palmacosta's finest Inn." An apologetic smile spread across his youthful face as he scratched the back of his head. "Please allow us to pay for your rooms. It is… the least we could do for you all."

"I _am_ pretty beat," Lloyd said with a yawn. "It's been a long day. We can find out more about this book thing in the morning."

"We would love to," Colette said brightly. "Thank you very much for the offer."

* * *

The Skipper's Haven was not exactly a luxury hotel, but the rooms were equipped with several amenities, and the decor was cozy and comfortable. Five rooms added up to just over a thousand gald, so the Governor-General's apology gift had turned out to be very much appreciated.

Now that it was after nightfall, Raine and Genis had already settled into their room. The eldest Sage sat in front of a desk with a large book splayed out on top of it. Her staff rested against the wall beside her and she reached out to turn up the lantern near her elbow.

Though she stared down at the words on the worn pages, she found that she couldn't concentrate. Behind her, she heard Genis turn the page of his own book, something concerning the physical properties of elemental magic.

 _You humans are all the same…_

He hadn't finished his thought earlier in the Governor-General's office, but Raine knew. Ever since they'd left - well, been banished - from Iselia, her younger brother's attitude toward the human race had become increasingly intolerant. She could sense a deep-seated bitterness in him that worried her - because she recognized it all too well as something she, herself, fought to overcome every single day.

Her voice seemed to echo in the room, despite its wooden walls and plush carpets. "Genis."

"...I know what you're going to say, Sis."

Raine turned in her chair to face the boy, her eyes wide and attentive.

Genis didn't look up from his book. He turned another page. The lantern flickered, sending strange shadows bouncing across the floor.

"You're worried that I'm starting to hate humans too much, right?"

"Are you?"

His cerulean eyes darted to hers before returning to the pages in his palms. "No. I know there are good humans like Lloyd. But…" He paused, breathing a sigh far too burdened for a preteen. "I just wish he knew the truth."

"You know why he can't yet, right?" Raine asked softly. She stood and stepped towards the bed where Genis was curled up in a pile of blankets. Her long orange robes swished quietly as she moved.

"I know." Much like his sister, Genis now stared down at his book without comprehending a single letter. His normally confident voice was now small and frail. "Do you think that finishing the journey will help anything?"

Raine paused, staring hard at her feet, before placing one slender hand in the pile of silvery locks atop her brother's head.

"It has to."

* * *

Four doors down, a burgundy-haired mercenary wasn't particularly tired.

He hadn't yet taken off his sword. The weapon was such a permanent fixture on his left hip that removing it - even for the sole purpose of lying down at the end of the day in a hotel room - was discomforting. Thankfully, his room had a balcony, and the cool breeze whispering inside from the sea seemed to air out what he considered to be a rather stuffy abode.

Kratos stared out the open window silently, watching the stars slowly shift and the occasional ship cross the horizon. He'd never needed much sleep. That was a good thing right now, because it wasn't like he could really get much.

There were far too many things to think about. To plan for, to consider. And to distract him…

Lloyd was to the room at his left, and was already snoring so loudly that Kratos could hear it through the wall. The boy also tended to talk in his sleep, as he had so recently discovered. His dreams seemed to vary widely, if the random words he could be heard saying were any indication. A few nights ago it was "Give me that hotdog!" Towards the beginning of the journey, it seemed to be more about battling monsters, with such phrases as "That's what you get!" or "You don't even know!"

But every now and then, one of the dreams seemed to go bad. Shouts of confidence and victory became mumbles of sadness and worry. Those were the hardest to listen to. Especially when he said things like "Stop it…" or "I'm sorry."

And worst of all: "...Mom?"

However, tonight seemed to be more full of lazy snores than words. There was a bang on the wall caused by what Kratos could only assume was Lloyd's head. A few seconds of silence went by - he could just picture the sleepy grimace on the boy's face - before the snoring started up again without fail.

Kratos returned his attention to the stars. Though the creature comforts of an inn were nice, he honestly preferred sleeping outdoors, where he could feel the wind and the solid earth beneath his back. Nature's wonders were among the few things he felt much of anything for.

Well, there were few things, yes. But they did exist. Sometimes, whether or not he wanted them to.

He closed his eyes for a few moments. In his thoughts leapt an image of a setting sun, a young boy's outstretched hand and an ugly toy dragon with its wings flapping uselessly in the breeze.

His eyes slowly opened as the vision vanished. He stared at his boots, willing the thought away, commanding it to never return.

It didn't work.

He heard footsteps approaching in the hallway a few seconds before a knock on his door. He blinked, and shook his head quickly. His expression remained flat and unreadable as he approached the door and twisted its brass knob.

...Somehow, he was not surprised.

Sara stood in his doorway. Her hands were behind her back as if she were holding something she didn't want him to see. She was biting her bottom lip, although she was smiling, her bright chocolate eyes gleaming thoughtfully behind wisps of fiery hair. Her spiked gauntlets and boots had been shed, and soft black gloves and leggings remained.

"Hi," she said.

The strange mix of annoyance and interest that rose in his chest kept him silent for a few moments. Eventually, he gave her a curt, yet polite nod. "...Good evening, Sara."

She wasted no time in revealing what she'd kept hidden behind her back: a laden paper bag. On its front was a stamp from the Palmacosta Market. She unrolled its top to give him a glimpse inside.

"I, uh… bought this for you," she started, the slightest hint of nervousness wavering in her usually confident voice. Her smile never left, though. "It's a half-pound of red snapper. And some assorted vegetables and spices."

His breath stilled for a slight, near-imperceptible moment. Snapper… vegetables…? She couldn't possibly have-

"Oh, and paprika," she finished with a knowing smirk.

Yep, she did.

"I didn't know if you had a pan here, so I brought one," she continued, bringing her other hand out beside her. In it was a medium-sized cast-iron skillet. "I thought, since we didn't really get dinner…"

He still wasn't sure what to say. Thankfully, his default expression was quite similar to the one he wore while deep in thought, so she seemed not to notice too much.

 _Oh, and paprika…_

"I got some Palma Potion too. It goes great with fish," she added, her smile faltering a bit at his weird, unnerving stare. "Are… are you busy?"

She asked him a question. He realized that much, at least. And questions required responses. Which required speaking.

He cleared his throat and shook his head once. "...No. I am not busy."

Silence. Then: more silence.

"Okaaaay, coooool…" Her gaze shifted over his shoulder and into his room, where she seemed to search for some sign that she needed to leave. "So, uh… could I come in?"

Another question. Alright. This was getting a bit easier each time.

"Yes. Please, do as you wish," he managed, stepping back and gesturing one lithe arm along the door and into his room. "I apologize. I just… was not expecting anyone."

"Yeah, sorry. But when I was at the market, I couldn't stop thinking about what you told me on that ship earlier. And I knew you wouldn't get this stuff for yourself." She shrugged once. "So… here I am."

He watched her enter, rather unsure of what to say. The only thing he _was_ sure of was this weird gratitude for the fact that she was here at all, so in an odd voice he wasn't used to using, he just said: "...Thank you."

"You're welcome." She set the bag and her pan down on his kitchen table, then turned to face him as he closed the front door, that persistent smile still on her freckled face. "Do you feel up to cooking? I mean, I can come back some other time if-"

"No," he said quickly. Probably too quickly. "Tonight is… just fine."

"Good." She stretched one arm lazily in the air while the other rested over her abdomen. "Because I'm hungry, and your snapper dish sounds _amazing_."

Sara watched the mercenary as he approached the table. He took the paper bag and began removing all of the fresh food with deliberate, systematic movements that she found utterly fascinating. It was as if his every action had meaning, and he wasted no time or energy with anything unnecessary.

"Do you happen to have a bit of oil as well?" he asked, peering into the paper bag. "It will help to keep the fish from becoming too dry."

"I thought you might say that." Her head gestured to the bag he currently had one gloved hand in. "I brought some kirima oil. I thought its flavor would compliment the snapper."

Just as she finished speaking, he found a small brown vial with a picture of a kirima fruit stuck on its front. He palmed it and unscrewed the cap with a twist of his wrist. Abruptly, the room's silence squeezed in on him. He felt the urge to break it but couldn't really think of what to say. Uh. Cooking, yeah. That's why she was here, so…

"...It seems you also know a bit about cooking, Sara," he managed.

She huffed a laugh and shrugged again as she opened the Palma Potion bottle beside her. "I'm no chef, but I appreciate how good food is made just the same."

Kratos bent down and opened the small door to the stove's inner chamber. It was already stacked with plenty of wood pieces left there by the inn staff. Foregoing the use of matches or a lighter, he simply extended one hand to the oven, palm-out. He muttered ' _Flames_ ', the outline of his tall form glowing for just a moment, and the pointed tails of his royal-blue cloak ruffling in a nonexistent breeze. The kindling obeyed instantly as it caught fire.

"That's handy," she breathed, her eyes just a bit wide with wonder.

"This stove is rudimentary but should suffice," he said, all sincerity and business. It made her smile. He held one hand out to her as he eyed patiently her over one shoulder. "May I see the pan you brought?"

"Sure." She stood, handing the skillet to him as she did so. Her gaze searched around the kitchen. "You got any glasses? Want some Palma Potion?"

He gestured to the wall beside him. "Up in that cabinet." He should say no, of course. Alcohol in any form was entirely inappropriate for a mercenary being paid to guard the Chosen. Clearly, he would be neglecting his duties by imbibing.

"And… I suppose one glass would be fine. Thank you."

Why did he say that? Take it back, take it _back-_

"No problem." She removed a pair from the cabinet and set them down on the table. As he continued to busy himself at the stove, Sara poured the Palma Potion, though she kept her russet gaze out over the balcony and into the distant horizon, much like he'd been doing earlier. The stars glittered like a spray of diamonds.

She sighed wistfully, taking a sip of the sweet red liquid in her glass. "Man, your balcony has the good view, Kratos. Mine just looks at the wall of another building," When he turned from the stove to face her, she handed him his own glass. "Here you go."

He took it, almost gently, and stared down at it for several moments. _Set it down. Don't drink it._

"It has… been a long time since I've had Palma Potion," he muttered.

"Really? Yeah, it's been awhile for me too." She leaned back against the table, crossing one leg over the other, and gave him a mischievous smile. "I used to drink it by the bottle when I was younger. Those were the days…"

The oil in the pan behind him began to sputter. His eyes narrowed a bit as he looked at her. Sara was reminded suddenly of the way he'd looked at her a few days earlier, when she'd been rescued and had just awakened for the first time. It was a look of calculation, as if he were evaluating her in his head. She met it with her usual confidence and took another drink.

"This may come off as strange or insensitive," he started. "But… how old are you?"

One corner of her mouth curled into a smirk. "Heh. It's fine. I'll be twenty-nine this year."

"I see," he said, and finally took a sip from his glass.

"You're about the same age, right?"

He cleared his throat. "...More or less."

"Well, good. I'm glad there's someone else my age in this group. Don't get me wrong, they're great kids," she said, smiling thoughtfully. "But having adult conversation is nice."

Kratos unfolded the paper wrapping from the snapper and carefully placed each fillet into the oil. They began to sizzle immediately, releasing steam and a delicious, ocean aroma.

"They have much to learn," he said quietly.

Sara watched as he picked up each separate shaker of spices. He held the small containers between his thumb and middle finger and tapped a few times on the edge to portion out just the right amount. It was surreal to see the mercenary perform such a small, almost dainty task with strong hands that so effortlessly swung that sword.

"I'm sure they appreciate having you along," she began, oddly enthralled. "Lloyd in particular seems to look up to you."

Kratos was silent for a few moments. He picked up another pan from beside the stove and set it on the remaining burner, then coated it with a bit of the kirima oil as well.

"He needs to refine his skills," he said with an air of disapproval, though his tone was not unkind. "As he is now, he is reckless and thinks too much with his emotions."

"Eh," Sara shrugged, downing another drink. "He's what, seventeen? Eighteen? He's filled with that youthful sense of invincibility. You were probably like that once, too, right?"

His features softened a little. He huffed his downplayed version of a laugh. "Yes. We all make mistakes, I suppose."

She swirled the Potion in her glass a few times as she continued watching him. He withdrew a wooden cutting board from a cabinet and a long chopping knife from a drawer. The vegetables were dumped onto the cutting board, and he began arranging them in neat lines with one hand while the other tended to the crackling fish.

He looked like a natural, like he'd done this a million times.

He looked like… he was actually _enjoying_ himself.

Sara smiled wider. "Would you like any help with that?"

"No, thank you," he said politely. He glanced at her over one shoulder with curious, kind eyes. "I have always enjoyed the simple act of preparing a meal."

A ridiculous sense of accomplishment and joy bubbled up in her chest. "Gotcha. The simple things are what makes life worth living, right?"

Though she couldn't see it, he smiled just a little bit. He'd never come across someone so absolutely determined to be happy. It was foreign, unsettling, and frustratingly admirable.

"That is… one way to put it." The cutting knife flew across the board with swift, precise strokes, and in just a few seconds, he had all of the vegetables sliced into small, equal-sized pieces.

"Everything smells amazing," she said, pouring herself a second glass of Palma Potion and taking in a long breath through her nose.

He nodded as the vegetables were placed into the second pan, followed quickly by another deft sprinkling of spices. "The snapper you bought was excellent quality. It should make a fine main course."

"Oh good," Sara said, relieved. "I asked for his freshest catch. Glad he didn't screw me. He looked a little…" She paused, her lips pressing into wavering grin as she peered down into her glass. "...Fishy…"

The mercenary stilled. He slowly turned his auburn head and shot her a condescending glare.

She held one hand over her mouth as she snorted an explosive laugh. The other waved at him dismissively. "Sorry. I have this thing with puns… That was terrible. Forget I ever said it."

He stirred the sizzling vegetables with a wooden spoon. "...As you fish."

Sara's jaw dropped. The glass in her hand nearly did so as well.

Kratos cleared his throat again and squared his broad shoulders. His mouth pulled into a taut frown. "...Er, wish."

"D-did… _Kratos_ just make a pun?"

He still refused to look at her. He studied the snapper fillets with an unwavering intensity. "That was… unintentional."

"Suuuuuure," she mocked, her playful eyes narrowing knowingly. She stepped up beside him and opened one of the cabinets to pull out a pair of dishes. Though his hair hid most of his gaze, she fought to find it as she leaned forward and set the dishes on the counter beside him. "Here's some plates."

He met her eyes briefly. "Thank you. Just a few moments longer."

"No rush," she said casually. She turned and headed for the open rear door. "I'm gonna step out onto the deck for a bit. I have to see more of this view. It's so gorgeous."

His head raised, and he finally looked away from the stove and at her back as she strode away from him.

"...Alright," he said softly, though he wasn't sure that she heard him at all, with the attentive way she was now staring up at the countless stars.

Sara could still hear the food crackling behind her, although most of the sound was drowned out by the ocean's constant roar. Things seemed to be going rather well so far - she was still here, and Kratos still seemed willing to talk to her. Both were things she'd entered his room entirely unsure of.

Honestly, she didn't completely understand why she was here in the first place. Perhaps it was because she felt obligated, due to the numerous ways the mercenary had helped her before. Or, more accurately, she might have viewed it as an opportunity to make a new friend, to help improve someone's life just the tiniest bit, even for a couple hours over dinner.

She took another sip from her glass, reveling in the tart sweetness of its contents and the warm, happy buzz with which it coated her brain. The sky cleared, moonlight bouncing off of the water and distant mountains in an otherworldly caress. She'd been to Palmacosta dozens of times over the past decade, mostly while on jobs from Kozei - but for whatever reason, tonight it seemed exceedingly beautiful.

"...Dinner is served," she heard him say.

She kept smiling and bit her bottom lip as she turned around. "Awesome, I'm starv- oh… wow."

The plain kitchen table had been completely transformed from a mundane, forgotten piece of furniture into a grand dinner display. A silver vase now set in its center, with a cheerful arrangement of red and blue flowers bursting from its top (seriously, where had he _gotten_ those?) It was flanked on either side by a pair of tall white candles, both of which were lit and flickering gently. On each end of the table were a pair of viridian linen placemats, and atop of these laid an array of silverware, arranged flawlessly and with painstaking precision.

Kratos pulled out the nearest chair, gesturing to it with a courteous half-bow. "Please, have a seat."

She stood anchored in place for several seconds before finally finding her feet and managing a few

awkward steps forward.

"How… how long was I out there?" she breathed, meeting his gaze with an incredulous quirk of one eyebrow. "You did all of this in, like… three minutes…?"

He nodded, his expression sincere and unchanging. "Presentation is just as important as taste."

She huffed a laugh as she sat down in the offered chair. "Well, if your presentation is any indication…"

He sat down across from her, although his hands remained in his lap and his eyes on her face. "I ask that you do not add salt or pepper until you have tasted each element."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she agreed, unfolding the napkin and settling it into her lap. When he failed to do the same, she paused and looked at him expectantly. "...Aren't you going to eat?"

He shook his head of spiky hair slowly. "I must make sure my guests are satisfied before I am able to eat as well."

"Damn, you take this pretty seriously huh? You weren't kidding."

The usual stony look on his face remained firmly in place. He continued watching her intently, his garnet eyes glinting in the candlelight.

Placing the napkin in her lap, Sara sat up straight and picked up her fork and knife. The plate itself was arranged just as beautifully as the table on which it sat, with the snapper fillet resting atop a bed of the sauteed vegetables. Around the edge of the dish was a reduction of the drippings in which the fish had been cooked, placed artfully in a series of dashes and dots.

She tried the fish first. "The snapper is… perfect. Crispy skin, flaky inside… the paprika adds the perfect touch."

"...Good," the swordsman said with a nod.

"And the vegetables are delicious," she continued after swallowing another bite. "Very savory. They balance the citrus of the kirima very well."

He huffed a sound of approval as he leaned back in his chair. Now that he was seated, the pointed edges of the cloak that hung over his bare shoulders made him appear impossibly broad, almost overwhelmingly so. "You have… a surprisingly refined palate."

Her eyes thinned and she pursed her lips, idly trailing one thumb along the blunt end of her knife. "'Surprising', huh? Why is it surprising? Because I'm from the sticks?"

Utter mortification paralyzed his features. His gaze lowered to the table. And he actually _stuttered:_ "I… I did not mean to-"

Solid gold. She held her napkin over her mouth in a completely futile attempt at suppressing a laugh. "I'm totally kidding you, Kratos. But in all seriousness - this is an amazing dish. Please, eat yours before it gets cold."

A strange mixture of admiration and annoyance arose in his chest. It was simultaneously enjoyable and uncomfortable, and not at all something he was used to. He cleared his throat and had a hard time meeting her eyes. "I am… pleased that you are satisfied."

" _Extremely_ satisfied," she added emphatically. As he palmed his own silverware and took his first bite, she looked around the dim room and at its simple decor, and then back to the table he'd set. She smiled softly, inhaling a long breath and then letting it all out in a sigh.

"...Thank you for this," Sara murmured. Her raspy voice was quiet and thoughtful. She gave him a cynical smirk. "You're the first guy to ever cook me dinner."

Kratos paused, setting his fork on the edge of his plate. "...And you are the first person I've told about my childhood dream of cooking."

They stared at one another for a few seconds, as if exchanging some unheard dialogue. She studied his mysterious, half-hidden face and its persistent, neutral expression - although his eyes seemed to belie it completely with the way they danced in the firelight.

"Well," she began, picking up her glass and raising it towards him. "To a night of firsts, then?"

He stayed quiet for several more seconds. He looked suddenly lost in thought, almost hurt, or vulnerable - it surprised her, to the point where she almost said something - but then he smiled a little, just a twitch of one corner of his mouth.

"Alright," he agreed at last, mirroring her movement as he picked up his own glass. "A night of… firsts."

* * *

"What's your favorite city to travel to?" she asked in between bites of zucchini.

"In Sylvarant?"

Sara gave him a quizzical look. "Um… yes?"

Kratos scoffed a laugh as he shook his head. "Of course. Forgive me. I would have to say Asgard. The mountain ranges there are unparalleled."

"Good choice." One of the few remaining bites of snapper found its way to her fork. "Iona and I have spent a lot of time in those mountains. The air gets so thin and cold. It's like breathing ice water. And it's so quiet and peaceful."

She spoke plaintively, almost as if recalling a former lover. Kratos noticed. "You seem to have an affinity for the elements."

"I practically lived outside growing up. When I wasn't on a delivery jobs, I was helping out on the farm. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way." She gestured her fiery head to the open window. "The world is just… too gorgeous to miss."

He nodded. A soft breeze made the candlelight dance. "The northern forests near the Balacruf Mausoleum are beautiful as well. Parts of them are very deep. There is said to be a stream one can only find when lost, and its waters bring eternal life."

Her nose wrinkled. One of the flowers in the silver vase lost a petal, and she picked it up gently, rubbing its velvet surface between her thumb and middle fingers. "Eh. I'd gladly lose myself in a beautiful forest, but the stream can keep that power for itself."

He eyed her carefully. His chair made a soft creak of protest as he straightened his back. "You would not desire to live forever?"

"Don't you think it would cheapen things?" She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, the small cyan petal still twirling in one hand. "I mean, I feel like, after long enough, living would be more of a chore than something to enjoy. You wouldn't really notice the small things anymore. Life would just lose its magic."

"Perhaps you're right," he murmured. He looked down at his plate with a strange intensity. "...May I ask you something?"

She shrugged as she plucked the last vegetable from her fork and smiled around it. "Sure. Shoot."

"Who did that boy from earlier remind you of?"

That soft blue flower petal dropped from her fingers and drifted to the plush floor. She lowered her head. The light in her eyes snuffed out, leaving behind smoky shadows that veiled something darker.

Well, _damn_. Too far. His mind blared one continuous string of curses. "...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -"

"No, it's fine," she said quickly, gathering herself once more. Her spine straightened as her shoulders pulled back, a forced, physical courage. "I went through a difficult time when I was his age. He… reminded me of myself."

"...I see." He tilted his head to one side, his eyes narrowing, studying. "So by showing him kindness, it took away some of your own pain."

She nodded, the smoke clearing, and pushed the smile back onto her face as she met his gaze. "There really is no better remedy."

Kratos folded his arms over his chest. "You are wiser than you seem."

Her hands resting on the linen tablecloth now curled into a pair of fists. "I'm not sure if I should be thanking you, or throwing my Palma Potion in your face."

"That would be a shameful waste."

Loud, melodic laughter shattered the room's silence. She grabbed for her glass and held it out over the vase, between the halfway-melted candles, grinning over the rim. "Cheers to that, too."

He tapped his glass to hers, and they both shared one final drink.

Sara watched as the mercenary stood and began dutifully stacking the silverware on top of their empty plates. "Can I at least help you pick up a little bit?"

"No, thank you," he said with a shake of his head. He held out one hand to her, and she stared at it confusion for a moment before finally realizing his intent and handing him the now-empty glass. He took it and added it to the stack of dishes, which he then set in the sink and began running warm water over.

Once that was finished, Kratos straightened and finally turned to face her, though he remained silent. It appeared as if he were waiting for her to act next - although in all honesty, he stood there without speaking simply because he didn't know what to say. That, stupidly, seemed to be the theme of the evening.

He felt gratitude, that much he was sure of. And some amusement at how, after spending the past hour and a half alone with him, she only now seemed just the slightest bit hesitant. It was fleeting, most definitely, because it was soon replaced with a sort of effortless confidence that she was so experienced at portraying.

Her russet gaze flicked to the door before returning to his. "I should get back to my room. It's late. Thank you again, Kratos."

She started for the exit, and he followed behind her, his broad steps soundless on the carpeted floor. Just before she reached the doorway, he slid forward and grabbed the doorknob.

"You're welcome. ...Thank you as well, Sara."

He turned the handle and opened his door, gesturing out into the empty hallway with one long, gloved arm.

Sara's right foot went through the doorway while her left remained in his room. She turned back to him once, and there was nothing suggestive, awkward, or expectant in her face at all - only a reassuring, grateful grin.

"Goodnight, Kratos," she said, and then she was off down the hall, stretching one arm into the air as she yawned. Her steps were a bit crooked, and he couldn't tell if it was from fatigue, clumsiness, or the two glasses of Palmacosta's finest. Quite possibly all three.

After a few seconds, he closed the door behind her. He stared hard at its wooden surface, noting absently that the metal hook screwed into the back of it was just slightly off kilter.

As he heard the last of her uneven footsteps, he reached up and straightened its crooked edge with his thumb.


	7. Fides (Faith)

Thank you for reading! :)

* * *

Chapter Seven

 _Fides_

* * *

The Chosen was never able to sleep any later than the morning sun. It never failed, even when she was a small girl or stayed up very late. Occasionally she cursed it, since it tended to make her tired later in the day - but on mornings like this, she felt nothing but gratitude.

Palmacosta was slowly coming alive. Its streets began to flow with all manner of people up and about for all manner of things. Colette wandered among them, her white boots clicking pleasantly on the stone street. She was headed for the Martel Cathedral, but was in no great hurry - mornings were often her favorite time of day, because they allowed her rare moments alone where she could reflect on her past, her present, and most of all, her future.

The temple's roof glittered above her, a spire of pearl and silver. Much like Martel herself, it was simple and unadorned - yet breathtakingly gorgeous, especially in the clear light of dawn. Colette's short, sure steps halted a few yards in front of the ancient doors. People milled by about her, as if she were a mere cog in a much larger, more complex machine. Her cerulean gaze remained fixated on the tower's apex. Its closeness to the heavens seemed to amplify her prayers.

She clasped her hands beneath her chin in a practiced, familiar gesture that she never got tired of, even after all this time and all these trials. Her head bent low, those thick golden locks of hers ruffling softly in the ocean's breath.

The Chosen prayed in silence. She prayed for many things - the end of the world's suffering, the restoration of Sylvarant's mana, and most of all… the protection of a loud, stubborn, and kind boy she knew, who dressed in red and black and fought with twin swords.

A strange, new sensation tingled at each of her shoulders. She was in public now, so she reigned in the urge to let her wings go free - although they fought mightily. Colette found that whenever she prayed, the urge to release her angel blessings pushed the strongest. It was as if Martel's own power blossomed within her, and the new, wild energy welled up almost overwhelmingly so.

She sang the short prayer softly, and although most of its melody was lost in the sounds of the sea and city, her voice was no less brilliant than if she were singing with all her heart at her usual Temple morning service. The language of the angels rolled freely off of her tongue - an ancient, near-forgotten script that only those of the Church knew of any worthiness:

 _Ne perdatis luces_

 _Cantum sanctum nunc accipite_

 _Oro, canto, vobis_

 _Fiat lux_

 _Spes, ne perdatis_

 _Cantum lucum nunc accipite_

 _Dono animam mea_

 _Fiat lux_

The rolling waves of her words died down slowly. Colette inhaled a long, solemn breath and bowed once to the temple, thanking it for its mere presence. Her back straightened, and her clasped hands dropped to her sides, where her fingers fiddled absently with the hem of her white cloak.

Breakfast at the Skipper's Haven should have been served and eaten by now, surely. At least she hoped so. As each day passed, she came closer and closer to the end of her list of excuses. And lying had become such a burden.

But that was her path. Carrying burdens is what the Chosen was meant to do. Pride and determination surged through her once more, and she thanked the Goddess for her unwavering guidance.

With a beaming smile, Colette turned around and headed back to her friends.

* * *

What the Skipper's Haven lacked in modern style, it more than made up for in quantity of food.

It was still rather early in the morning, so the downstairs dining area was mostly unoccupied. The Sage siblings had arrived there first, and claimed a large round table for the remaining members of their party that would soon be joining. Lloyd had joined them soon after, and while Raine and Genis had each chosen a light meal of granola and assorted fruit, the boy in red had grabbed a pair of plates and was now obliterating the hot food buffet. A broad grin had fixated itself on his face as he set down the first dish at his spot on the table, laden with bacon, sausage, and ham. He returned quickly for a couple of waffles, biscuits and gravy, and buttered toast.

Genis stared wide-eyed at the massive assortment of food. "How does he fit all that in his stomach?"

"At least he expends most of it while battling monsters," Raine said as she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "He'd be as big as a house otherwise…"

Lloyd sat down at last, setting his second plate beside his first and grabbing his fork and knife in eager hands, almost as if he were wielding his swords. "Dirk always said I was a growing man, so I could eat as much as I wanted."

The Professor cleared her throat. "Then why don't you ever eat my cooking, Lloyd?"

Genis and Lloyd both froze in place. Lloyd managed to swallow his first bite of waffle. In the suddenly silent room, it made a deafening gurgling noise as it went down.

Thankfully, at that exact moment, Sara opened the door to the dining room. She paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame with one shoulder and sniffing the air strangely as if she were some sort of scent hound on a perpetrator's trail.

"Waffles," she said slowly. "Bacon. Sausage. Ham. And… gravy?"

"You fuhgaut bishcutts," Lloyd beamed through a full mouth.

"Biscuits," she echoed. "Let's do this."

Much as Lloyd had moments before, she picked up a pair of plates and began loading them with food. She half-hummed and half-sang a simple tune to herself, something about the joys and wonders of breakfast time and how it was the most important meal of the day.

A cloud in the morning sky suddenly unleashed the sun, and as its rays entered the wide front windows of the dining room, Raine peered outside. "Has anyone seen Colette yet this morning?"

"Here I am!" the Chosen answered as if on cue. She strode through the doorway, hands behind her back and a smile on her face. "I was just out for a morning walk."

"By yourself?" Raine questioned, her intelligent voice gaining that dangerous, authoritative edge she so often used in her classroom.

Colette shook her golden head. "No. Well, the walk was by myself, yes. But Mr. Kratos was watching over me the whole time, so don't worry. I know better, Professor."

The mercenary appeared behind her just then, and closed the door behind him as they both entered. "The Chosen wished to offer her morning prayers at the temple."

"Isn't that where we're going next?" Genis asked after swallowing a bite of banana.

Colette nodded as she took a seat at the table beside Lloyd. She couldn't stop herself from smiling at the way he waved at her with two fingers over his fork. "Yep. But when I was growing up, I always went to the sunrise service at the temple in Iselia. Old habits are hard to break, I guess."

"That was nice of 'Mr. Kratos' to go with you," Sara mused, glancing at the swordsman as she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee.

"It is my job," Kratos countered factually. He reached for the fruit bowl in the table's center and palmed a red apple. Sara took a sip of her coffee and wrinkled her nose as she stuck her tongue out at him. He stared back at her silently, his expression flat as he polished the apple with one gloved hand then took a large, yet somehow still graceful bite from its crispy red surface.

"If Lloyd and Sara haven't eaten all the food already," Genis began, shooting the pair of them an exasperated glare. "Then there should be plenty left for you, Colette."

The Chosen waved an absent hand in in the air, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. "Oh, I ate earlier. I'm fine. There's no rush. We can leave when everyone is through."

In between bites, Sara looked across the table at Lloyd, who had layered bacon and sausage in between two quarter sections of his waffle, and was now eating the construction like a sandwich.

Her eyes widened. "Lloyd. You are a _genius_."

"I call it the _wafflewich_ ," the teen said proudly.

She immediately started crafting her own. "Stealing it."

Kratos watched them with a strange, dumbfounded look on his face. "You two share some… interesting traits."

"Hey," Lloyd shrugged as he took the last bite of his creation. "She knows a good idea when she sees one."

* * *

The temple doors opened with a long, tired creak.

The Chosen led her group inside. Arched ceilings climbed high above their heads, made of ancient marble that had been painstakingly maintained and polished. Rows of wooden pews sat on each side of the regal chamber; although there was no service currently in session, patrons still dotted the seats, each one seeking something different, whether it was forgiveness or advice.

"This is a stunning place," Raine murmured. She gazed around the chamber slowly, as if taking in each detail and making a series of mental notes.

Kratos nodded as his eyes raised to the apex of the ceiling, where each elegant arch met. "This church is very old. Martel's followers built it from the finest materials at the time. Its quality remains to this day."

A pastor stood at the front of the pews. He wore the traditional robes and tall hat of the Church. His head was bent as he studied a book resting on a golden pulpit before him, but it raised when he heard the party approaching. The slight wrinkles on his face creased as he smiled wide and proud, his back straightening.

"Oh, Chosen One! Do you remember me?" He bowed, holding one hand against his chest. "I'm Marche. I trained as a priest at the Martel Temple."

Colette nodded, her gentle face glowing. "Of course I remember you. It's so nice to see you again. So you've become a pastor now."

Marche's eyes lit up. He stepped around the pulpit towards Colette. "Yes. Ever since the Tower of Salvation appeared, I have eagerly awaited the arrival of the Chosen." He gestured one arm to the graceful figurine resting on a sconce behind him. "The legend of Spiritua will surely be of use to you."

"Spiritua gave her first sermon here, right?" Colette asked. She stared at the statue in wonderment, taking in its detailed features and sloping lines. Spiritua must have been older than herself, because she had soft, womanly curves where Colette's figure was mostly still straight lines.

"Yes, that is correct," Marche confirmed. "The legend of the world regeneration from that time was written down in the Book of Regeneration and was given to the royal family. It contains a record of the location of every seal."

"Do you keep a record of its contents here by any chance?" Raine asked hopefully.

The pastor shook his head. "No, it was not complied by the church. Would you like me to request Governor-General Dorr to show it to you?"

Colette sighed, her thin shoulders slumping. "That… won't help. It seems he gave the book to a group of imposters pretending to be us."

Shock sprang into Marche's sincere expression. "That's terrible! Unfortunately, the Book of Regeneration is the only record of Spiritua's footsteps." He paused, glancing down at the tiled floor. "I am sorry I could not be of help."

Colette rested one hand on his shoulder. "Please don't worry! Keep Martel in your heart as you continue to spread her teachings. You are doing a great service to the people of this city!"

Marche nodded eagerly. His disappointed tone became one of pride and resolution. "Th-thank you, Chosen one. Please let me know if I can ever be of help."

* * *

Lloyd stared at the marble column in front of him so hard that he was surprised a pair of holes hadn't been burned into its surface. His hands were curled into shaking fists. He kept picturing Colette's downtrodden, innocent face as she'd talked to that pastor. Because it's not like this journey was already hard enough on her by itself. There had to be assassins… monsters… and now a group of selfish jerks who wanted the glory of the Chosen all for themselves, despite having put forth none of the effort.

It made his blood boil. He stood anchored to the temple's porch as the rest of his companions descended the trio of steps into the plaza. When he didn't follow after a few moments, Genis paused and turned around, giving him a curious, empathetic look.

"Something wrong, Lloyd?"

"Dammit, those guys really piss me off!"

Raine, Colette, Kratos and Sara all halted, turning to face his suddenly loud, violent voice.

"You mean the imposters, right?" Genis asked, mirroring his friend's bitter expression. "I know, I'm really mad, too!"

"Right?" Lloyd threw his arms out to his sides before gesturing one of them to Colette, who kept giving him the same pained look. Her vivid eyes were averted from his fuming gaze.

"Colette's trying to save the world, and they're just making it even harder by being selfish and inconsiderate! Doesn't it make you mad, Colette?"

Five pairs of eyes now studied the girl closely. A hard lump formed in her throat beneath the red Cruxis Crystal shining on her skin. The spotlight was definitely not her thing; she tended to blank out and let luck run it's course. Her sapphire gaze darted around for some sort of way out of this awkward situation.

She realized suddenly that she was currently standing almost in the exact spot she'd been at this morning, when she'd offered her sunrise prayers to the Goddess. Martel's words echoed at once in her thoughts, right on time: _Have courage and be kind_.

It was so simple. Her unease washed away in a clean, clear wave.

"Well, I think if there are lots of Chosens, the odds of the world being saved go up." She turned to face them, once again beaming with purpose. "That would be a good thing!"

That flame of anger blazing in both boys petered out completely as they let out exasperated sighs. Raine grimaced and held one palm to her face while Sara hid a smile in the back of her hand. Kratos remained stony and motionless, although the way he was looking at Lloyd carried an air of scrutiny and vexation.

"Just once I want to know what goes on in her head," Genis muttered.

On the far end of the plaza, a large group of people began streaming over the stone bridge that the Chosen's group had crossed yesterday. The way they were clustered was reminiscent of an obedient herd of sheep. At their lead were a pair of women in beige and brown tunics, who in reality were probably tour guides but came across more as shepherds for listless, two-legged livestock.

One of the guides was speaking, while the other - who, from the back at least, looked to be Chocolat, that same girl from earlier at the Palma Potion shop - stood by, pointing at various buildings as her partner continued on. Eventually she turned around, and her bright eyes widened as they settled on Colette's group.

"Oh, you're the ones that came to our item shop earlier, aren't you?" She stepped away from her tour gathering and approached them, her long brown ponytail swishing back and forth over her shoulders.

"That's us," Lloyd confirmed with a nod.

Chocolat glanced back once at her partner, who continued the tour without interruption. "I'm sorry about what you saw earlier. I work here as a pilgrim tour guide."

Lloyd shrugged, waving one crimson hand at her dismissively. "Ah, don't worry about it." His tone sobered, a look of sincerity aging his boyish features. "...But are you going to be okay? Those Desians might not hesitate to destroy this entire city, it sounded like…"

Chocolat's hands went to her hips as she scoffed a laugh. "You don't know anything, do you? This area is under the control of Magnius from the eastern ranch, but just last month they reached the designated death count limit. We're safe until next year."

Sara's right hand curled into a tense fist, the pale blue Exsphere on its back emitting a faint glow. "'Death count limit'? You've got to be kidding me…"

"So this city hasn't signed a non-aggression treaty," Raine said quietly.

The brown-haired girl shook her head. Her sharp voice reflected the fire behind her umber eyes. "...Iselia's the only place with a treaty like that. Although there are many who envy it, I don't want any part of a treaty that panders to the Desians."

"But that means you must spend every day in fear of the Desians," Kratos countered coolly.

Chocolat bristled, as if his statement were some sort of challenge. "Governor-General Dorr is building a resistance force to fight the Desians. He'll be getting rid of them soon."

The mercenary crossed his arms and 'humph'ed for the thousandth time.

"And on top of that," the girl continued. "I've heard that the Chosen of Mana has already begun her journey of world regeneration!"

Colette's hands immediately clasped beneath her chin. "Oh, yes!"

Chocolat met Colette's gaze with an encouraging smile. "Just hang in there until the Chosen saves us, okay?"

"O...okay!" Colette said sincerely. "I will!"

Lloyd poked her in the arm with one elbow, his voice low. "Colette, she doesn't realize you're the Chosen."

"It's okay! I just like that she believes I can save everyone!"

How did she do that all the time? Just see the good in everything so easily? Lloyd still hadn't quite figured it out - but he admired her for it just the same. He smiled even as he laughed and shook his head.

"So while we're waiting for the regeneration, I recommend that you follow Martel's teachings and go on a journey." Chocolat paused to remove a small booklet from her breast pocket and flip through its lined pages. "The current tour is already full, so would you like to sign up for the next one? You're nice… so I'll let you in at a reduced rate." She gave them a cheesy, expectant grin as she gestured one arm to the tour group still milling about in the plaza.

"Er, thank you for the offer," Raine said, badly attempting to hide a grimace. "But we have a few things to take care of first."

Chocolat popped up on the balls of her feet as she shrugged. "Suit yourself. It was nice seeing you again! Stop by the shop again sometime."

The Chosen's group watched her jog off back to her tour, falling in sync to her partner's speech with cheerful gestures, never missing a beat.

"She's… weirdly good at that," Sara mumbled, scratching the back of her pumpkin-orange head with one hand.

"So… what should we do now?" Colette asked. She looked around at all of her companions for some sort of approval. "Shall we just go looking for the seals using Remiel's words as clues?"

"I think we would be better off getting ahold of the Book of Regeneration," Raine said. Her lips were thinned and her eyes seemed shifty for some reason, as if she were hiding something.

Genis saw through it in less that a second. "Raine, you know you're more interested in that book itself than the location of the seals."

"Not true!" the elder Sage scoffed. She held one slender hand over her heart. "I am merely concerned for… everyone's safety. If we knew where to go first, we could potentially avoid threats on the way."

"Suuuuuuure," Genis said through a knowing grin.

"Well, damn," Lloyd muttered, that familiar rage boiling in his chest. "It looks like we don't have any choice but to chase after the imposters."

"But how?" Colette asked.

"Remember what they said? They're planning on selling off the Book of Regeneration."

"Correct," Raine said, a bit astonished. "We should head to Hakonesia Peak, then."

Colette turned to the boy in red, grinning excitedly. "Wow! Lloyd, you're amazing!"

"It's only at times like this that he has a good memory," Genis mused, effectively popping the rapidly-inflating balloon of Lloyd's ego. It earned him a seething glare.

"Shut up, Genis!"

Kratos cleared his throat loudly. With one hand resting in its familiar place on the hilt of his sword, he turned east, towards Palmacosta's edge. "Well then, let's get going."

* * *

The six travelers stood at the entrance to the port city, its heart to their backs as they stared out over the vast viridian field and into the mountainous distance. Lined up like they were, each of their heads formed a perfectly sloping line from one side to the other - Kratos, on one end, was tallest at about 6'1", but also the most broad. Lloyd was next, all sharp lines and crimson fearlessness, and beside him was Sara, her fiery orange head sticking out like a sore thumb. Although she and Lloyd were the same height, at about 5'8", he always seemed taller thanks to waves of thick, spiky brown hair. Raine came next, at an average five-and-a-half feet, while Colette to her side was a full three inches shorter, and last was the younger Sage, ending the line at just under five feet.

Lloyd, despite several earlier failed attempts , had gotten it in his head that he'd be navigator this time. Raine and Kratos also had their own maps of Sylvarant, but theirs always seemed neatly folded and well taken care of, while Lloyd's was merely a wad of paper he'd managed to dig out of the bottom of his pack. He found it, though, and that was what mattered. A half-melted Apple Gel was stuck to its edge, and he idly plucked the treat off and stuck it in his mouth as his excited umber eyes scanned over the map's detailed drawings and lines.

"So… North-east!" He glanced up at the Professor and his mercenary mentor for either praise or admonition. To his immense surprise, he received the former, in the form of a wide-eyed nod from Raine a near-imperceptible smile from Kratos. "See? I'm getting better!"

"How far is Hakonesia Peak?" Genis asked, adjusting his pack on his small shoulders.

"Twenty-seven point four miles, depending on our detours," Kratos said factually.

Colette swallowed hard. She could feel her feet growing tired already. "T-twenty… seven?"

Lloyd stared at the burgundy-haired man with an open mouth. Seriously, was there anything he _didn't_ know? "B-but… you haven't even looked at your map yet…"

Kratos glanced at the teen from the corner of one garnet eye. His expression remained impassive. "I have seen much of the world."

"Ooh, so _mysterious_ ," Sara smirked, waving her hands excitedly. Kratos glared at her, breathing a growl under his breath, but she just smirked wider. Lloyd and Genis both hid laughs behind their hands as they exchanged amused glances.

"We will probably have to rest halfway," Raine said. As the group's healer, it was largely up to her to keep everyone else in fighting shape, so assuring they did not push themselves farther than absolutely necessary was very important to her. "I believe there is a House of Salvation near the halfway mark. Let's make that our destination for tonight."

"Um," Colette started. She kept looking around, startled, and instinctively began to shrink behind the Professor. A strange galloping sound had reached her newly-sensitive ears. "Do you guys hear that?"

"Hear wha-!"

Lloyd's sentence ended in more of an _auughhh_ as he was rocketed towards the grassy ground by a furry, four-pawed, come-from-behind hug-tackle. He managed to catch himself just before the faceplant and rolled onto his back, only to be bombarded with a slew of slobbery kisses.

"N-Noishe! My… my whole face…"

"Oh, there he is," Genis said casually, stepping out of the way of the doglike creature's frenzied tail. "I was wondering when he'd show up again."

Colette's face became one huge grin. She stroked a hand along the creature's silvery fur. "Yay! Hi, Noishe! We've missed you."

"Who is this?" Sara asked, her eyes wide. The creature was quite large, big enough for the average person to ride on its back comfortably. It had layers of shining fur, emerald green mixed with pearly grey, except for its giant paws, which were an odd shade of purple. A pair of enormous fluffy ears twitched happily as it continued showering Lloyd with salivary affection.

"Noishe," Lloyd managed, giving up entirely. One side of his face bunched up then stretched with every lick from Noishe's long, rough tongue. "He's my dog."

Sara raised one thin eyebrow. "...I've never seen a dog quite like him."

At that, Noishe lifted his head and peered up at her, those giant ears flicking back and forth like sails caught in a breeze. His eyes were curious and kind, and full of strange, humanlike intelligence. He barked once as if to introduce himself.

"Uh," Sara stammered. "Hello, Noishe. Nice to meet you. I'm Sara."

 _Awaooooo._

"He says hi," Lloyd translated as he stood, wiping his now extremely clean face on one arm.

Noishe trotted forward, and promptly stuck his long, curious nose directly under Sara's arm. She went stiff, staring down at his soft head with bulging eyes. "Um…"

"Hmm," Lloyd mused thoughtfully. "It's like you… smell familiar to him or something?"

"F-familiar?" Sara eventually settled one hand on the creature's head; just as she did so, he drew back and returned to his place beside Lloyd, panting happily. Lloyd beamed and scratched Noishe's shoulder. "You coming with us again, Noishe?"

 _Waooohhn!_

"Alright! Let's go, guys. Time's wasting!" He trotted off, and Noishe stuck by his side, those huge purple paws plodding steadily beside Lloyd's crimson boots. The two of them continued conversing in two completely different languages that somehow seemed mutually understood.

The remaining members of the Chosen's group followed after them at varying paces, with Colette always safely in the middle and Kratos always behind her. Genis trotted up next to Lloyd, while Sara and Raine brought up the rear.

"...That's not really a _dog_ , is it?" Sara wondered aloud.

The Professor sighed, looking after Noishe and his boy as she shook her silver head. "Lloyd has always insisted that Noishe is just a dog. I'm not entirely sure _what_ he is, but he's definitely… not a dog."

* * *

Kendama is a traditional Sylvaranti toy. The _ken_ , or body of the apparatus, has three cups and a spike, or _kensaki_ , which fits into a hole on the bottom of a ball. This ball is anchored to the ken with a long string. Basic kendama tricks consist of catching the ball in the cups and on the spike, while more advanced tricks require sophisticated technique and excellent hand-eye coordination.

Unless you're Genis Sage, in which case, everything just comes easy.

He wasn't sure what had gotten him hooked on kendama in the first place. He remembered receiving one as a boy and instantly growing fond of the almost addictive way it had challenged both his mind and body. Gradually, as he began studying and practicing magic, the act of mastering kendama became tied to his spellcasting and controlling the flow of mana for elemental attacks. To the average onlooker, attempting complicated kendama tricks while casting magic seemed peculiar and more of a hindrance than a help. But in Genis' head, it made complete sense, and that was all he cared about.

Genis preferred to practice in silence, which he'd gotten so far. There was only one Northeasterly road on the plains between Palmacosta and Hakonesia, and given the declining state of the world and the risk of running into monsters, it remained sparsely travelled. The sun was about a third of the way through the partly-cloudy sky, which meant the Chosen and her group had hiked about five or six miles already (Kratos would know which was right). At any rate, it was time for a brief rest, and the youngest Sage took a few minutes on his own to practice a particular spell he was right on the cusp of learning.

While the rest of the group remained beneath the shade of a large oak tree, Genis had ventured slightly further into a neighboring grove, only to find a perfect, spellcasting-practice-sized clearing. Most importantly, though, he was still within earshot of his older sister - his cheek stung at the memory of Raine's last hard-taught lesson, and he rubbed at it absently with the palm of his free hand.

Taking in a breath, Genis began the first motion of the spell: a graceful, sweeping arc of the kendama's red ball, which landed solidly in the ken's larger cup. He repeated this several times, each swing in a slightly different direction, whipping the elements into a living, responsive whirlwind. Starting at the soles of his feet, a circular symbol grew along the earth's surface, its glowing edges churning and twisting in perfect sync with the kendama's ball… which missed its next landing completely. It passed mere inches in front of his nose before it came to a rest near his feet, swinging side to side softly.

Genis had the acute feeling that someone was watching him. The brush and trees surrounding him suddenly housed thousands of hidden monsters. The hair on the back of his neck bristled as his wide eyes searched the area, before glancing back over his shoulder… and then finally rolling back in his head as he growled an irritated sigh.

One grey and black boot popped out from behind a tree, followed by a pumpkin-orange head.

"Oh, sorry… I tried to be quiet," Sara said with a sheepish grin.

Genis gave her a seething glare. "What do you think you're _doing_? I'm trying to practice! You just interrupted my spell!"

Sara held her hands up in prostration. "Hey, my bad, my bad. Magic is really cool to me. I was just curious as to how you managed to cast spells with a kendama of all things."

"Pretty well, _thank you very much,_ " the boy spat. "And it's rude to spy on people!"

"I wasn't _spying,"_ she countered, crossing her arms, tilting her chin. "I was… admirating."

"Admiring," Genis corrected flatly.

"Yeah, that."

"Well, I don't like it when-"

He felt the breeze of her movement first, along with the tail of her duster brushing past his arm. He managed to turn just in time to see her twist in midair, slashing the spikes of one gauntlet across the back of a beach ball-sized, red and black spotted beetle that had been in the process of diving for his head. It thunked to the ground, rolling around helplessly on its shiny back as its sticklike legs flailed uselessly.

An odd vibrating sound sizzled in the air as three more of the now very angry beetles pushed their way through the brush, beelining for their downed relative's attackers.

"No more practicing!" Sara shouted, wide-eyed. Both of her wrists flicked once, and then her claws were back, their obsidian razor-sharp points giving her fingers an extra three inches of length. "Come on, we can take them!"  
"B-but…" Genis glanced around for someone, anyone, any _thing_. The last thing he wanted on this still sort-of green earth was to go into any form of battle with that tall, beclawed psycho...

"Ice spells!" Sara shouted from a low crouch. Those solid legs launched her into the air like a human projectile, where her splayed fingers met with the vulnerable underbelly of one buzzing beetle. It spun out of control in the air before crashing to the ground, oozing a putrid yellow goop from its wounds. "These guys hate the cold!"

Okay, he knew a couple ice spells. And he _was_ here to practice, so…

"Right!" That kendama came alive again as Genis so effortlessly performed its complicated tricks. His astute eyes locked on to the two remaining foes. He yelled " _Icicle!"_ as the kendama's ball soared through the air, bringing with it a spine of icy shards that jutted up from the ground and formed a frigid, solid wall.

In their haste to avenge their comrade, the pair of remaining beetles ran into the ice head-on. This rather loud, amusing _crunch_ coincided perfectly with the soft click of the kendama's ball finding its way back onto the spike it had originated from. Sara had her hands totally ready for their next strike, but found one unnecessary, since the insects had managed to successfully knock themselves completely unconscious.

"It's not necessarily _cold_ they don't like," the boy mused, kicking one of the beetles for good measure. It twitched for a few seconds before remaining still once more. "More like solid objects in general."

" _Pfffft_ , sure seems like it," Sara agreed, using a cloth from one of her pockets to polish her dirtied claws. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and they were full of light, just like her grin. "That was awesome either way. Thanks."

"Well, uh… you too," Genis managed, folding his arms and turning his back to her with an acidic "...I _guess…"_

She stared at his small shoulders for a few moments, her smile dimming. "Hey, Genis, uh…"

His head swiveled to one side and he looked at her out of the corner of one narrowed eye.

"I know you don't really want me around," she muttered, watching her claws retract into their housings within her gauntlets. "And I understand why. But I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay."

Genis shrugged, absently inspecting his fingernails on one hand. "Colette has the final word on this stuff. I don't really have a choice."

One of the beetles began buzzing its wings in short uncoordinated bursts. Sara shoved it with her foot. It finally remained still. "Fair enough. I won't spy on you practicing anymore. Promise."

" _Good!_ "

Just then, the brush began trembling again, the branches and leaves swishing against one another in that telltale sound of an intruder. They both turned to face it, preparing for another insect onslaught - but instead were met with Raine and Lloyd. The former looked entirely worried, while the latter already had his twin blades brandished and waiting, a confident grin on his face.

"We heard a commotion," Raine announced, carefully scrutinizing the area. Her gaze landed on the downed beetles, and she breathed a quick sigh of relief. "...Oh."

"Aw, you guys beat them already," Lloyd pouted, sullenly sheathing his swords.

Raine approached her younger brother, looking him over with clinical interest. "Are you both alright?"

"It was just a couple of beetles, Raine," Genis scoffed, frowning.

"Yeah, no problem," Sara added. "We're good."

The Professor shook her head. Her tone was authoritative and left no room for argument. "We can't be too careful. None of us should take any unnecessary risks. That goes for you too, Sara."

Sara swallowed hard and nodded fervently, her back straightening. "Y-yes, ma'am."

Raine smirked, a pink hue brushing her smooth, pale cheeks. She sighed pleasantly. "Ah, my favorite phrase. Keep that up and you'll be my top student. Lloyd, remember this."

Lloyd, who had been curiously poking at one overturned beetle with the tip of his sword, suddenly shot up straight, his eyes wide and panicked. "H-huh? What did I miss? Genis, _help_!"

"Nothing changes," Genis mumbled.

* * *

This was it. Sitting right in front of her, silent and unforgiving, was the Chosen's most terrifying trial yet:

A pot of chili.

Colette knelt over the group's lunch as it dangled over their small campfire. Her small face was scrunched up in frustration and nervousness. It was her turn to cook this time, and with their fairly limited choice of ingredients, a free-for-all chili _seemed_ like a simple, idiot-proof option.

So far she had included beef, beans, onions, and tomatoes. Despite her meager knowledge of culinary arts, she remembered those three were pretty much the staples for any chili recipe. But spices had always kind of confused her, because she'd never really paid attention to how one tasted over the other.

And now, she _really_ couldn't make that determination…

She glared down at the collection of small shakers, all resting in a pile within the group's food pack. Each one was painstakingly labeled, although it could've been a completely foreign language to her, for all it helped. Eventually, she picked up three of them - that was enough, right? Garlic salt was first - yeah, she could remember the taste of garlic. It would go well. Next was chili powder… well, she _was_ making _chili_ , right? So that should be perfect! And last was something called cayenne pepper… she'd never heard of it, but it looked kind of like chili powder, so it had to be _sort of_ appropriate.

Taking in a steeling breath, she opened all of them and put in several solid shakes of each. Afterwards, she stirred the chili with a wooden spoon, watching it bubble and thicken up.

The Sages, Lloyd, and Sara had not returned to camp yet, which left just Colette and Kratos, who was sitting nearby, his back against a tree as he perused a leather-bound tome labeled _Ancient Sylvaranti Literature and Poetry._ His long legs were stretched out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other, his face hidden from view by his hair as he read. Noishe was curled up beside him, sleeping soundly. Every now and then the creature's ears would twitch, as if listening for something in a dream.

Colette opened her mouth and closed it twice over before she could force her voice out properly. "Um… Mr. Kratos?"

The mercenary raised his head, garnet eyes meeting sapphire as the book in his hands lowered to his lap. "What is it, Chosen?"

"I, uh… well…" Her hands wrung together nervously as she glanced down at her concoction. "Before everyone gets back, would you mind trying out my chili and telling me what you think?"

He nodded and stood, stepping into the sun. Colette handed him a bowl that looked oversized in her tiny hands but almost too small in his broad, long palm. He sat beside the pot, crossing his legs beneath him, rearranging the scabbard at his side. Carefully, she poured a ladle-full into the bowl and handed him a spoon.

Kratos sniffed it first, then took up a spoonful, blowing on it a few times before finally placing it in his mouth. Colette's eyes were huge as she watched him intently for any sort of reaction.

Though his expression remained impassive, the very tips of his cheeks began to turn a slight red. His choppy burgundy hair seemed to bristle. He cleared his throat not once, but twice, and slowly returned the spoon to its bowl.

"This is… rather hot," he managed. "...I think you put in too much spice."

Colette's shoulders slumped dejectedly. She looked off to one side, mortified. Chili powder, cayenne pepper… perhaps she should've picked one or the other…

Kratos surreptitiously took a quick, giant sip of water from the canteen lying beside him. He breathed a sigh of relief, surprised his breath hadn't left his lips as steam.

"I'm sorry," the Chosen said quietly. "I'm not good at cooking, and my sense of taste is…"

The burning of his tongue and cheeks began to fade. Kratos studied her unusually downtrodden expression for several moments. His features softened along with his voice, a rarely-seen cadence of empathy.

"Taste… I see. I'm sorry." He shook his head, glancing down at the atomic chili in his bowl. "I take back what I said. I was too harsh."

"It's okay," Colette countered, meeting his gaze with a broken smile. "It's the truth."


	8. Caligo (Darkness)

Chapter Eight

 _Caligo_

* * *

 _And it echoes when I breathe  
_ _Until all you see is my ghost  
_ _Empty vessel, crooked teeth  
_ _Wish you could see-  
_ _And it calls me under_

* * *

Each House of Salvation, while meant for the same purpose, was constructed just slightly differently, and with varying materials depending on the local supply. This one stood out starkly against the endless flat plains, made from ash wood gathered from the nearby forests that lined the continent's northeastern edges. Rainclouds had begun gathering, blotting the sky with ominous grey shadows that hid the first hints of the setting sun. Deep rumbles of thunder would crack from up high, reverberating throughout the grassy ground like a faraway giant's footsteps.

The Chosen's group had made it just in time. Lloyd was full-on sprinting towards the front door, the scabbards of his blades bouncing up and down with each long stride of his legs. Noishe, who was not fond of rain or thunder either, was right on his heels, followed by Genis, his shorter legs a blur as he fought to keep pace.

"Whoo!" Lloyd skidded to a halt at the small building's front porch, ducking thankfully beneath the wooden overhang sheltering his head. "It's about to really come down!"

Genis stopped beside he and Noishe, who was sniffing the ground curiously. Colette, Kratos, Sara and Raine trotted up to meet them just as the first of many fat, loud raindrops began to fall.

"We have great timing today," the Chosen gulped, smoothing her golden hair back from her face after a blustery breeze.

Raine held up one hand, palm-out towards the plains. "This storm feels powerful. We won't be going anywhere else today."

"I think fifteen miles is plenty," Genis moaned.

Kratos turned, twisting one of the wrought iron doorknobs and pushing open the broad, heavy wooden door. He took a couple steps inside, and Lloyd followed right after him, but ran straight into his back when the mercenary stopped dead, one hand reaching instinctively for his sword.

Lloyd was just about to ask what his deal was when he saw a familiar head of black hair and lavender robes across the lobby… their clumsy assassin had also sought shelter from the impending storm, apparently.

Her back was to them, and she had her head lowered in a prostrate gesture. She stood before a peculiar, gleaming statue on the far wall. She was speaking softly, though they were able to catch only the tail end of her sentence:

"...lla will suffer. Please, help me save everyone."

Lloyd glanced back at Colette, his eyebrows raised. He gestured his head to the woman. Colette beamed, nodding fervently - which gave Lloyd silent permission to continue.

"Hey," he blurted. "What are you praying for?"

Without missing a beat or turning to face them, the assassin straightened her back and said resolutely: "So I can save everyone." Once the words were out, she seemed to realize someone had actually spoken to her, and whipped around to face Lloyd and the others. Her pale face fell in utter shock and mortification. Pink splashed at once across her cheeks. "...Uh…!"

Lloyd's friendliness was stubborn and persistent. Rather to the surprise of his companions, he took a step towards the stranger, holding out one hand in an offered greeting. "That's a nice thought. My name's Lloyd! What's yours?"

She stumbled backwards as if he were made of something toxic. One foot caught on the edge of the carpet and she scrambled to steady herself on the wall before going down completely. "What?..."

Genis frowned and elbowed his friend in the ribs. "Lloyd? What are you…"

"I'm Colette!" the Chosen chimed in. She bowed once to the woman, whose face flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. "I'm still inexperienced as a Chosen, but I promise I'll do my best and regenerate the world."

"I never asked you your names!" the stranger hissed, though somewhat halfheartedly.

Colette blinked. "Oh, you're right." Another bow. "I'm sorry."

"I… I'm trying to _kill_ you!"

"I know. But if we just talk, I'm sure we can come to an understanding."

The woman's hazel-brown eyes were as wide as gald pieces. Her mouth hung open in a disbelieving gape. "Are you _listening_ to me?!"

"I'm listening. But um…" Colette's tiny hands fiddled with the hem of her white cloak. "Ms. Assassin…"

"It's _Sheena,_ " she managed, through a haze of exasperation and bewilderment. "Sheena Fujibayashi!"

Colette's face lit up once more. She took a few gentle steps forward, as if calming a wild animal. "Sheena. You were praying. Praying makes one's heart grow." Her golden head nodded earnestly. "I pray, too. So I'm sure we can understand each other."

The clumsy assassin, now known as Sheena, glanced from Colette to her group of companions and back. The Chosen stood there like some religious artifact herself, that same friendly smile still hovering on her lips. The kid in red beside her wore the same look. The other four - that smaller kid in blue; the older one with matching silver hair; the tall, quiet one with the sword; and finally the tan one in the black and teal - seemed much more wary, although none of them had brandished their weapons. They must not be taking her very seriously…

To top it all off, they had some weird dog thing with them now. Its simple eyes seemed to be saying, ' _Really_?'

Sheena's throat worked soundlessly. Her hands, clad in fingerless lavender gloves, curled into fists. She breathed a grumbling sigh. "I… I was praying that I'd be able to kill you…" Her eyes squeezed shut and she shook her head. "Forget it! I lost my concentration! You'd better be ready next time!"

Another seal, another flash of light and trademark puff of smoke, and she was gone.

"That's our Colette," Genis muttered with a sardonic half-smile. "Chosen of Mana, befriender of assassins…"

Lloyd waved one hand through the air to clear the smoke. Thankfully, the service desk was around the corner and whoever was manning the counter had not been curious enough to peek. "I don't get it. Why would anyone consider Colette a problem? If she regenerates the world, won't everyone be happy?"

"She said something kind of strange, remember?" Genis said. Noishe was sitting happily beside him, and he scratched the creature's shoulder absently. "Something like, 'People on our side will suffer.'"

Sara pensively stroked her chin with her thumb and forefinger. "Yeah, there was a weird word in there, too. "'Teledalla'? 'Capybara'?"

Raine gawked at her. "Those sound _nothing_ alike…"

"She really didn't look like a bad person," Colette murmured, staring down at her boots.

Genis' face now mirrored his sister's. "Colette! She was trying to kill you!"

"I know," the Chosen admitted with a thoughtful smile. "But she really did have gentle eyes."

Lloyd stared at the spot Sheena had stood in moments before, as if that would aid his memory. "...Hmmm, now that you mention it, she did, didn't she?..."

"Enough of this _nonsense_!" Kratos held a hand to his head, which had begun to ache like an ice pick

kept persistently crashing into one side of it. "Assassins with gentle eyes… Your naivete will be the death of you," he grumbled.

Lloyd's pride deflating was practically audible. He and Colette both flinched at a brief crash of thunder, their shoulders slumping. While Colette's gaze remained on the floor, Lloyd's eyes burned in a pouty, angsty glare. If Kratos never said anything else to him, that would be _just_ fine. "...Yeah, I know, but still…"

"At any rate," Kratos continued, one eye still slightly squinting, a couple fingers pressed to his temple. "Let us reserve a room. This storm isn't going anywhere, and we could all use a good night of rest."

"On it," Sara offered, striding towards the front desk. She paused halfway, turning back slowly, her chocolate eyes settling on Noishe. The creature stared back at her, its giant ears perking up. "Uh… does he sleep inside, or…?"

"He doesn't like storms," Lloyd said, eyeing Noishe with a small, caring smile. "Besides, if that Sheena girl comes back, he'll be the first to know."

"So six of us plus a… _dog_." Noishe whined, his pink tongue lolling from his mouth as he panted.

"We're used to sharing rooms," Colette offered. "I know this journey can get expensive, so we conserve wherever we can."

"Lloyd snores," Genis said, smirking. "A lot."

"I do _not,_ " Lloyd countered, crossing his arms.

"Like a pig."

"An _awesome_ pig."

"How can a _pig_ be awesome?"

"Easy. It wears red and fights with two swords."

Kratos turned swiftly on one heel and headed upstairs.

* * *

Their room ended up being a double-bed, with a fold-out futon mattress. The Sages, used to bunking together, had claimed the futon, while the Chosen was given her own bed, along with Lloyd, who claimed the other. Kratos and Sara, both of whom were accustomed to sleeping in strange places from a lifetime of travel, ended up on the floor. Noishe had laid dutifully beside Lloyd's bed, somehow managing to cover his back with the bedskirt as a makeshift blanket, already comfortable and sleeping soundly.

A kettle of hot water rested in the stone hearth, still steaming. Its soft hiss, along with the crackling of the dying fire, was the only sound in the small room, save for Lloyd's occasional snores (which really weren't as bad as Genis had led on).

Raine and her brother were still awake, both of them reading by the light of a small lantern. In the near-darkness, they looked remarkably similar, their hair glinting the same silvery-copper from the fire. Genis' eyes, while a shade lighter than his sister's, scanned rapidly over the words in his tome, his small face alight with that unmistakable glee of _knowledge._ He and his sister were much alike in this regard; although the younger tended to be more rash and instinctive - no doubt a byproduct of having Lloyd as a best friend - the older was constantly wise beyond her years. Genis and Lloyd found this rather boring most days, yet whether or not they wanted to admit it, they both depended on Raine's wisdom in those often-familiar uncertain times.

Colette seemed to have found solace in sleep. The peaceful, resigned look on her young face was rarely seen. Every waking moment, while accepted with eternal grace, was spent under some sort of trial. At night, though, where the world was as silent her thoughts, everything melted away beautifully.

Kratos had laid out on the carpeted floor, his pointed cloak once again balled up behind his neck as a makeshift pillow. His hands were behind his head as he gazed silently up at the ceiling. It was curved, almost like the innards of a wooden ship, meeting at a knotted point in the center. At either end of the room was a paned glass window; although the shades were drawn, the beige canvas would light up occasionally from a lightning strike.

They were all safe for the moment, and the air was still and warm. Sleep began tugging his eyelids down bit by bit. However, after a few seconds of silence, a thudding and shifting would reach his astute ears, snapping his garnet eyes open once more.

He lifted his head just a few inches. Sara was near his feet, resting on one side, facing opposite from him and towards the eastern window. She was restless, and honestly rather annoying. Every few seconds she would turn over, from one side to another, and then to her back.

Kratos watched her for a few moments. One half of her face was illuminated by the smoldering coals, the other hidden in shadow. Her breath would catch in uneven gasps and her hands would grip the edges of her sleeping bag, like she were fighting for purchase away from something. She finally ended up on her right side, where her arms curled in close to her body, knees up to her chest. She held there, eyes closed tight, burying her face in trembling fists.

He laid his head back down. The possibility of sleep drifted steadily out of reach.

* * *

Darkness was all she could see. For miles, for _ever_ , up and down, left and right. She tried to take a step forward, but her foot felt as if it were caught in an inescapable muck, and it took all of her strength to wrench it free. After another step, it sunk down again in the invisible mire. Her arms flung out to her sides, frantically grasping for something, any kind of stability.

Her own ragged breaths slammed into her ears, as if their sound was being redirected straight from her lips and back at her head. Suddenly, her eyes caught the glint of a light in the distance, locking onto it with a desperate, frenzied intensity. She flung one arm into the air, waving it back and forth, shouting with all her might to get its attention. It danced across the obsidian horizon, pausing just briefly in indifferent acknowledgement.

Did it work? Was she saved? She stared at the light. It seemed to be inching closer. A relieved smile broke out on her weathered face. She tried to raise her arm again, to thank the light for its existence, but found herself unable. A pair of cold, clammy hands gripped her bicep, dragging her into the muck with brutal, unrelenting persistence.

She lurched against them, but they held on. Her eyes fought again to see the light. It was still there, a reassuring, heavenly presence. Her mouth pried open and she roared, shoving her leg forward another step. Another set of hands, bony, fleshless, gripped her ankle, anchoring her down. She screamed for the light. It was close now, and it had a definite shape: the outline of a young woman with short hair.

Sara's free arm reached forward, so far that it felt about to pop free of its socket. Her wrist was captured next, grasped by shadowed, rotting fingers. She stumbled forward, specks of the mire splashing into her face and eyes. Her head shook. She fought hard, so very hard, with her last free limb, managing an unsteady half-step forward. But the hands were there again, darting up from the darkness, biting into her thigh.

The light retreated, leaving a trail of soft sparks in its wake. In its stead was an evil presence, darker than black, with innards that no light could ever touch. It stared down at her with a wicked, crooked grin, its diamond teeth flashing. She screamed, and screamed, as every inch of her body was dragged into the cold, slimy pit. Her chin tilted, forcing her mouth to the surface for one final gasp of air. The muck slid slowly down her spasming throat. That void-like presence watched, cackling as she choked-

* * *

Sara burst awake with a visceral gasp.

Her eyes were wide and frantic as they darted around the silent room. She held her hands out before her, in her lap; they shook uncontrollably. She kept seeing her claws on her fingertips, slick with red, marred with bits of sinew and flesh. Kept smelling the fresh, sharp tang of blood. Her nightmare's cackle hadn't left her ears, and instead echoed endlessly, mocking, goading… Tearing at her eardrums with persistent talons.

Lloyd was here, she knew. And Colette, and… everyone she cared about anymore was trapped in this room with her. Noishe lifted his large head, those gaping ears fixated in her direction. His large eyes were kind, and seemed impossibly concerned, almost like he could hear what haunted her.

Her breath slammed to a halt in her throat. She _had_ to get out of here. That laughter was far too close, far too fresh as it buzzed in the back of her skull.

She flung off her sleeping bag and stood on unsteady legs. Everyone seemed asleep. She had no idea what time it was, but she really didn't care. The longer she looked at them, the more their blankets seemed like bodybags. She jolted for the door, fumbling for the worn brass handle and shoving it open. She was already halfway down the stairs when she heard it shut behind her.

More darkness greeted her in the lobby. She couldn't see very well, but with memory's guide, she scrambled forward. The front door was locked, but she made short work of the iron latch and threw it wide with an impact from one shoulder.

...Freedom.

Fresh, clean air, saturated with new rain and sparkling with lightning, found its way into her lungs. She halted on the edge of the porch, hiding her face in her hands as she inhaled, long and slow and steady. Her legs up and quit, dropping her rump to the welcome mat. She hung her feet off one step, doubling over, gripping her thighs, and stared up at the churning, flickering sky.

Her mind cleared gradually, aided by the biting, pre-dawn air and the pure scent of moist earth. Lightning cracked once more, vibrating the tips of her toes all the way to the ends of her hair. The air was cold. Sara's teeth chattered.

Bit by bit, her heart rate slowly eased into something normal. She scrubbed at her face and hissed a curse. She stared hard into the flashing clouds. And she was quite unsure of how much time had passed before she started to smell hot chocolate.

She raised her head, like a beast awakening from its slumber. She heard footsteps now. The door at her back cracked open slowly. She watched it move, her eyes wide and waiting. The boots appeared first; they were at her level since she was sitting on the front steps. Next were legs, long and royal blue. That sweet, comforting smell became stronger as they stepped closer. Finally, she managed to look up and into his face.

Kratos held a blanket in one hand and a steaming tin cup in the other. He seemed impossibly tall, godlike, standing next to her like this. She stared up at him in disbelief.

He blinked and extended one hand to her. The one with the blanket. She reached out a wavering hand to grasp it. The fabric was warm and soft, and seemed made of magic itself. She stretched it around her shoulders, bunching it up beneath her chin, breathing a watery, trembling sigh as he finally sat beside her.

"Th-thanks," she managed.

He nodded. His other hand offered the cup. He held it around the rim with his fingertips so that she could take the handle. The magic blanket - seriously, it was made of pure heaven - steadied her just enough so that she could grip the cup without spilling its contents all over his lap. She brought it to her face, taking in a long, dulcet breath through her nose and closing her eyes in contentment. He watched her, expressionless and silent, as she managed to take a sip.

"This is good," she said.

"It gets better."

Her gaze slid to his, full of curiosity and confusion. He met it evenly.

"The nightmares," he continued quietly. "They will get better."

She stared down at the swirling hot chocolate. A few miniature marshmallows had managed to survive thus far, melting slowly in a sweet demise. "I hope so. That day, the demon…" Her head shook as she fought off the echo of that laugh, still bouncing somewhere in a corner of her head. "It was the scariest thing I've ever gone through."

The mercenary said nothing. He stared ahead into the hazy distance, those cinnamon eyes hidden by spikes of burgundy hair. Sara had the sudden, distinct feeling that he was waiting, probably for her thoughts to form something coherent and meaningful. She swallowed and forced her throat to work correctly.

"How… how does that just happen? _Why_ does it happen?"

Her question seemed to pass his test. He sighed, leaning his weight comfortably back onto one arm. "In my experience… only a handful of people every generation are capable of becoming vessels. It has to do with one's unique mana signature, and whether or not it leaves room for outside influences."

Sara took another sip of her cocoa. The tin cup's warm metallic surface melted her frigid fingers. She smiled cynically over the rim. "Huh. I guess you could say I'm very… _easily influenced_ , then."

"That would be accurate."

"Can it happen again?" she blurted. Then, with much more hesitance: "I'm… really scared of it happening again."

"Yes," he said without delay. He reached down to idly adjust one of the belt straps on his boot. "But each time, you will become more aware. You will be able to direct your actions. You will not be as powerless."

She took another sip, hoping it would take the lump in her throat down with it, though it did no such thing. Foam stuck ungracefully to her top lip. She frowned and licked it away.

"Kratos, if… if it happens again…" Flashes burst in her mind, a parade of macabre fireworks: red dirt, gashed faces, slit necks. "You can't let me…"

Their eyes met finally. "You are strong, Sara. You will be fine."

She nodded. For several seconds, that was all she could do. "...Okay. But I need to know, Kratos… if I can't control it -"

"If you continue to doubt yourself, I will not be a part of this conversation any longer."

Well… damn.

What was she supposed to say _now_? He was at once encouraging and stern, icy and warm.

...And she understood completely.

Sara smiled. Both tips of her freckled cheeks burned with warmth. The steam from her cocoa swirled and shifted as she scoffed a laugh. Its surface danced, stirred by her breath, forming a parade of abstract shapes.

"Please rest for the remainder of the night," Kratos said, though it was more of an order than a suggestion. He kept the corner of one eye trained on her, skeptical, curious. "I will continue the watch until dawn."

"Alright." She suddenly felt less cold, her thoughts settling, regaining composure. _You are strong, Sara. You will be fine._ His voice echoed in her head, erasing that hellish cackle. A foreign light eased to life where only darkness had reigned before.

She sucked in a breath through her nose. "It gets better. I will be fine." Her shoulders squared, blood now pumping through her chest instead of an icy mire. "In fact, I'm awesome."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "That seems… more like you."

"You're right. I can do this." She stood finally, little by little, still clutching the blanket firmly around her back. His gaze followed her, though he remained sitting.

"Goodnight, Sara."

"Goodnight, Kratos." She took a step towards the door, but paused halfway and turned back to him. He was still looking at her over one broad shoulder.

"...Thank you," she added softly.

Kratos nodded once more. She disappeared through the doorway, leaving a ghostly trail of cocoa steam in her wake.

* * *

Hakonesia Peak jutted from the earth itself like a row of bony spines, jagged and clay-colored, blessed only occasionally with any sort of foliage. It divided the continent in half and served as a natural gate between the south and north portions… so, naturally, someone had already decided to take advantage of this.

A singular dirt road trailed up the peak and over the far edge. At its summit, this road was surrounded on either side by a wooden gate and a pair of armed guards reminiscent of those outside the Governor-General's office in Palmacosta: large, silent, and shiny.

The Chosen's group, back on the move, had crossed the last twelve miles along the plains to finally arrive at the Peak itself after a day and a half of travel. The sight of the summit and its promising descent into the unknown had Lloyd's stomach twisted into familiar, excited knots. His legs ate up the dusty ground with fevered certainty. Noishe was sprinting beside him, and somewhere behind him were his human companions, which he confirmed with a glance over one crimson shoulder. _Come on, hurry up…!_

"Lloyd," came Raine's all-too-familiar scholarly voice, an icy shout that broke through the midday sun. "We are here to see the collector, not head to the northern territory yet."

"B-but…" He pointed one desperate finger at the mountain's peak. "It's _right there…"_

"Finding the Book of Regeneration is our goal," the Professor admonished, adjusting the strap of her bag on one shoulder. Her attentive slate-blue eyes flicked to a strangely-shaped cabin just off to their right, with a terracotta roof and a heavy wooden and cast-iron door. "Considering this is the only residence, it's reasonable to assume the collector that group had mentioned lives here."

"All by himself?" Genis wondered aloud.

Colette's faced scrunched up in thought. "Maybe he has a reason for living alone."

"If you're looking for road passes, it's 100,000,000 gald per person!"

"O-oh," Colette muttered dejectedly. "That's why…"

Lloyd fumed at the older man, who, if not for his entirely unpleasant demeanor, would have came across as a friendly, grandfatherly figure. The collector was mostly bald, and had a calculating, curious look in his spectacled eyes. His thin, withered form was bent over a cane that he held as more of a weapon than a support mechanism. Around them was a remarkably well-stocked room, full of all manner of treasures - candle sconces, statues, jewelry and accessories, paintings… anything worth looking at seemed to be trapped in this overcrowded area.

"Wha?! What kind of price is that?" Lloyd spat. At this point in their journey, they were lucky to have 10,000 gald, much less 10,000 times that. "That's robbery!"

"Silence, boy! The great collector Koton has no time for your insolence."

At that moment, Raine, Colette and Sara entered the front door after Lloyd, Genis, and Kratos, and the strange old man's hard eyes lit up like fireworks.

"That means even those on pilgrimages with the Church of Martel can't make it past here," Raine grumbled, though her slender face seemed to brighten once she noticed the plethora of relics surrounding them. Her cheeks blushed as if she were staring at some mouthwatering half-naked specimen of a man. Rather disturbingly, Koton's did the same.

"Oh, my," he began, clearing his throat and straightening his kyphotic spine as best he could. "You're quite the beauty! If you're on a pilgrimage, you should join the Asgard ruin tour at the Palmacosta travel agency."

Genis had a sudden, distinct, and rather terrible taste in his mouth from this guy's tone. He frowned and narrowed his eyes. "Hey, you're in cahoots with the travel agency!"

Koton's weird, friendly demeanor dropped instantly and hardened into disgust. He raised one arm and pointed a knobby finger at the door. "Oh, shut up! If you don't have any money, then get out of here!"

Sara was bent halfway over, sticking her awed face as close as she could to a peculiar necklace that hung from one of the many wall sconces. Its cord was simple, unadorned black leather, but its charm was a palm-sized, reptilian scale that transformed from a deep, smoky blue to a glittering purple depending on the light's angle. She reached out a few hesitant fingers to brush along its smooth surface. "Wh… what is _this_?"

Koton's voice softened from stern and impatient to something full of sap and care. "My dear, that is a prized dragonscale amulet! It's said to bring strength and life to any fire source. It is one of my more treasured objects; very old and very rare. And very beautiful, just like you!"

She turned her suddenly serious, dangerous gaze to Koton. Kratos and Lloyd watched this exchange with a bit of amusement. One of her hands absently curled into a fist. "How much?"

"I couldn't dream of letting it go for anything less than fifty-thousand."

"F-fifty?!" she echoed incredulously. With a growl, she gave him her back, folding her arms across her chest - though her eyes remained fixated on the gleaming amulet in a longing stare. "Greedy bastard…"

"What was that, my dear?"

" _Nothing_."

Colette, who had been so far wandering aimlessly around the room in admiration of all the foreign, pretty objects, suddenly began glowing with recognition when her gaze landed on a large, weathered tome on a table against the far wall. Its cover was dyed a deep maroon, while its spine was a faded emerald green. Across its front were emblazoned a series of geometric symbols. She stepped towards it as if drawn by some invisible force. "Hmm, that's a very old scripture…"

While her friends followed suit and crowded behind her, that same strange, blushing look crawled back across Koton's wrinkled face, which seemed to be forever in either a state of appreciation or utter distaste depending on the gender of his subject of interest. "Oh, my beautiful maiden! You have a good eye!" He shuffled closer to them, elbowing Lloyd and Genis out of the way. The former noticed a distinct aroma of mothballs and something that had been sitting in a closet for far too many centuries, while the latter chose to simply back away to avoid any further unpleasantness.

"This here is something I purchased from the Chosen of Mana. It's a very rare scripture record that contains the Legend of Spiritua."

Colette's wide eyes met Lloyd's, whose met the Professor's, whose shone with the light of a thousand suns.

"I've been wanting to get my hands on this for ages!" Koton continued, one side of his mouth pulled into an arrogant grin. "I'd just about given up on Dorr ever letting go of it. It was very fortunate that the Chosen herself was willing to part with it."

"Let us have that!" Lloyd blurted, then caught himself with a nonchalant glance at the back of his hand. "I mean, at least let us look at it for a bit."

"You've got to be kidding!" Koton scoffed. He raised his cane, blocking off the path to the book with its stem. "Why should I have to show it to you people?!"

"Oh, come on!" Genis rolled his eyes. "Colette is the Cho-" And his words were once again cut short by Raine's insistent, stinging palm across his face.

"Stop," she hissed to him under her breath. " _We'll_ be the ones treated as impostors."

Koton blinked, his cane slowly lowering to the floor like some malfunctioning mechanical arm. "The Cho?"

"The Chosen of Mana's devout follower," Raine continued without hesitation. "She wishes to view articles that the Chosen has possessed." Her hand rested on Colette's small shoulder. "Colette is a faithful believer and is versed in the language of the angels."

The blonde girl nodded, beaming with wary pride. "Ah, yes, that's right. I've studied it since I was a child." Which was completely the truth, so it came out easier than she thought.

Koton's eyes slid back and forth from Raine to Colette before he finally nodded in acquiescence. "Well, if it's that important to you, the maiden and beauty can have a look at it. But for a price, of course."

Sara rolled her eyes before closing them painfully, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "Of _course…_ " Kratos fought the urge to do the same, and instead continued glaring at Koton's smirking face with bitter stoicism.

"More than anything," Koton continued passionately. "I want the Spiritua Statue that is displayed in the House of Salvation south of here. If you bring me that, I'll consider showing you the book."

Genis' mouth hung open. "You're so stingy! Like it costs you anything to just let us look at it."

"Shaddup!" Koton countered with a raise of his cane. "Get the heck outta here if you don't have any money and don't have the statue!"

"So, what, we're supposed to just walk in and take it?" Lloyd asked, quirking one eyebrow.

"I don't care _how_ you get it. Buy it, steal it, whatever floats your boat. But you're not looking at the book until I get it!" He wandered off finally, to the back of the store, where he began perusing what appeared to be a ledger while keeping a close eye on all of them.

Lloyd growled and turned his back to the old man, unable to stand the sight of him anymore. "What's that avaricious old geezer's problem?!"

Raine gasped, nearly losing her grip on her staff. She stared at Lloyd, her face lighting up suddenly as if she'd just beheld the most precious relic to ever exist. "Oh, my!"

"Wh...what is it, Professor?" Lloyd gulped, taking a few tentative steps away.

"I can't believe you know the word 'avaricious'!"

Lloyd groaned and held one hand over his face. "Professor…"

"And you used it properly, too!" she continued exaltedly. "That's _fantastic_!"

Genis' eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them. He smirked, kind of wishing he had some popcorn to munch on to go with this spectacle. Kratos once again wore that hopeless expression he seemed to reserve only for Lloyd.

Lloyd seriously thought the Professor might start crying tears of joy at any moment. "Y-you don't have to praise me that much…"

"But it's a miracle!"

"Hehe… you're making me blush."

"Lloyd," Genis said flatly. "She's making fun of you." The back of Lloyd's crimson hand flew out suddenly to knock him upside the head. "Oww…"

Sara frowned and sidled up to Kratos, poking him in the shoulder with one finger. "What's 'avorishus' mean?"

The mercenary sighed and held a hand to his suddenly aching temple. "Why don't you ask Lloyd?"

Raine sighed too, and now that the miracle of her student's vocabularic knowledge had worn off, it was back to their current, frustrating reality. "Well, in light of these new developments, I suppose we have little choice. Let's start heading back."

The group turned to leave, everyone in varying states of rage, save Colette, who seemed more confused than anything. Kratos, strangely, took the longest to exit, appearing out front at least a full minute later than the others. Once outside, however, it became clear that something very strange was going on - the clearing just in front of Koton's store, which had been empty earlier, was now crowded with people. Some looked to be travelers, but most were just normal citizens, who seemed vastly underdressed and carried no supplies. Almost like they'd left in a hurry.

Lloyd glanced around at the group with wide eyes. Noishe, who had been patiently sitting outside the front door, was sniffing the air experimentally, his long tail swishing back and forth across the dusty ground.

Lloyd tapped one nearby man on the shoulder. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

He and presumably his wife beside him turned around. The woman's jaw dropped a bit. "Oh, you don't know?"

The man's voice was grave and aged, although he himself looked to be only in his thirties. "You all would be better off waiting here for awhile. No matter what, you should stay away from Palmacosta."

The bottom dropped out of Lloyd's chest. "What happened in Palmacosta?"

"It seems the Desians are headed there," the wife said dejectedly. "We were all on our way there to begin a pilgrimage, but it's not safe anymore. So now we don't know what to do…"

Lloyd glanced back at his companions. Suddenly the creepy old collector's bad attitude felt like an insignificant problem.

"Plus," the man continued. "They say the leader of the nearby human ranch, Magnius, is with them."

"Magnius," Lloyd echoed. Chocolat's mention of death quotas sprang fresh into his memory. A fire blazed beneath his sternum, his hands going to and then curling around the hilts of his blades.

The man gestured one arm to the gathering of people beside them. "We're going to wait here until things cool down. If you know what's good for you, you'll hold off on going anywhere for awhile too."

A tenseness threaded through the Chosen's group and pulled taut. Genis looked worried and almost frightened, as did Colette. Raine and Sara shared the same grim, sickened expression, while Kratos remained unperturbed.

Lloyd swallowed hard. "What should we do?"

"I am of the mind that learning more about the seals comes first," Raine said. "But ultimately this is Colette's decision."

The Chosen immediately turned to Lloyd, holding his stare desperately. "What do you think, Lloyd?"

"We can't abandon the people of Palmacosta. Maybe we can get there before the Desians and warn them."

"Okay! I agree!"

"We _just got_ here…" Genis moaned with an exasperated sigh.

Kratos narrowed his eyes. "Did you expect this journey to be a vacation? We are here for the Chosen, not to enjoy ourselves."

Genis frowned, turning away from the mercenary as he crossed his arms. "Jeez. Now I know how Lloyd feels all the time."

Sara's face, which had been scrunched up in thought, now brightened. "Oh, hey. I have an idea." She faced Koton's shop, taking a couple of steps to the side so she could see around the back. There was a clearing directly behind the back door before the mountain broke off into a tall, jagged edge, and she jogged to it, motioning for the others to follow.

She stepped right up to the edge, her toes mere inches from open air. Her head bowed, and she muttered something to herself. Whatever it was caused her Exspheres to glow brilliantly, and as her head raised, one of her hands did with it, her fingers splayed and palm-out towards the distance.

"Count to ten," she said with a smile.

Lloyd blinked, a bit lost. "Huh? What happens at ten?"

A sudden burst of wind answered him, along with a steady, leathery flapping, before Iona's long purple silhouette passed across the sun as she approached. Her hind paws touched the earth first, before she fell forward onto her front ones, bringing those vast wings in close against her ribs. Her tail swished happily as she greeted Sara with a purr and nuzzle.

"Oh yeah," Lloyd said absently. "I kind of forgot she could do that."

"Hello, my friend," Sara cooed, scratching affectionately beneath the dragon's scaly chin. "I have a favor to ask. Do you have any other friends nearby?"

Iona whinnied, and smoke trailed from her nostrils as she turned her horned head southward.

"Two? Perfect. Could you bring them here for me, please?"

It was strange, but the dragon seemed to nod. Her golden wings unfurled, and she turned to leap off the edge - it looked as if she fell straight down, but she reappeared moments later in the distance, whizzing over treetops that rustled like water on a lake's surface.

"Our trip might still take an hour or so," Sara said, shielding her eyes from the sun as she gazed up towards the partly-clouded sky. "But we're with the wind, and it beats walking."

Raine's eyes widened, one hand lifting worriedly to her chin as she frowned. "... _What_ beats walking?"

Sara stared at her expectantly. "Flying, of course."

Lloyd was suddenly five years old again. He leapt triumphantly into the air, and when he landed, his feet were incapable of holding still. "We're gonna ride dragons?!"

Excitement bloomed on Genis' face as well, though it tumbled into confusion a moment later. "Wait, why haven't we been doing this from the beginning?"

"Well, Iona's the only one trained to handle riders properly," Sara said, grimacing a little. "But the others she brings back can be taught the basics in only a few minutes. I've done this a thousand times, but I figured it was safest for us to walk unless absolutely necessary."

"So let me get this straight," Raine pressed, her words slow and deliberate. "We are going to ride _wild_ dragons?"

Sara shrugged, smiling innocently as she scratched the back of her head with one hand. "You and Colette can ride Iona, okay? She's very gentle. I'll ride with Lloyd, and Kratos can go with Genis. Ever ridden before, Kratos?"

The mercenary nodded. "A few times, yes. Though it was long ago."

"Oh, it's like riding a bike." Sara waved at him dismissively. "You'll do fine. Just do everything I say."

Kratos crossed his arms. "...Humph."

That familiar leathery flapping sound carried towards them on the breeze again. High over the southern peaks, Iona was in the lead, with a pair of slightly smaller dragons flanking her on either side, one a dark blue, and the other a vivid burgundy.

"Oh, even better," Sara grinned. "They're juveniles. They'll learn easily."

Raine sighed, her shoulders slumping in resignation. "Well, on the bright side, this will be one more item to cross off my 'Things I Swore I Would Never Do' list."

The trio of beasts landed beside Sara, who withdrew a small leather bag from her pack. Iona sat quietly, but the others were twitching expectantly, their long necks craned in Sara's direction, nostrils flaring. She opened the bag and pulled out a handful of dried meat as she approached, heading first towards the one with deep navy-blue scales. She stood tall, squaring her shoulders to appear as broad as possible; when the young dragon stretched out its head to her, she offered a bite of the meat. The beast sniffed it once, then took it with a long sweep of its tongue. At the same time, Sara passed her hand confidently along the bridge of its nose and between its eyes, then back behind its jaw, and finally beneath its chin. As it swallowed, its eyes seemed to meet hers, their faces level to one another.

" _Salve, amice_ ," she muttered calmly.

Colette smiled, excited. "Oh, that's the language of the angels! You know it?"

"Not really. Just a few phrases." She offered the dragon another piece of meat, which it took without hesitation. Her hand continued on down its neck as she stepped around to its side. "Dragons have been around since before the modern tongue, so they respond best to the ancient language."

Slowly, her wandering hand slid into the space between its wings. It twitched a little bit, like the touch was foreign, but its demeanor remained one of curiosity rather than anger or discomfort. Sara clicked her tongue a few times, a sharp "tch" sound. Her free hand offered one last piece of the dried meat. Just as the dragon took it, she launched herself onto its back, settling there with her knees bending around the bases of its wings. It honestly seemed too preoccupied with eating to notice.

She grinned, patting the side of its broad neck. " _Gratias vobis ago, amice."_

Lloyd nudged Colette's shoulder. "What's she saying?"

"'Thank you, friend.'"

"This little one is good to go," Sara announced. She jumped down to the ground once more. The dragon remained behind her, its tail swishing, completely at ease. "See how small their horns are? Iona is actually the eldest of them, which means they will follow her lead until she tells them differently. So you don't have to worry about steering." She met Lloyd's gaze, gesturing to the dragon's back with a grin. "Well? Whatcha waiting for?"

Lloyd moved so fast he practically teleported. The dragon's eyes followed him, and it issued a low purring sound that he wasn't sure whether was good or bad. Sara didn't seem to mind though, so he figured it was nothing to worry about.

"Put your left foot here," she instructed, pointing to the junction at the dragon's thigh and body. He did so, noting that it was a higher step than he'd expected. "Now," she continued, her left hand pressing to the dragon's snout while her right pointed to its wing base. "Use his struts to lift yourself up. But watch out for the spines when you sit. You'll want your booty in front of that big one, not on top of it. That'd hurt like hell."

"O-okay," Lloyd managed, his eyes wide with wonder. He did as she said, and before he knew it, he was sitting on a living, breathing dragon's back… with an emphasis on 'breathing,' since he could now feel its ribs expand with each inhale into those giant lungs. It was weird and completely enthralling, and a lot more slippery than he expected; he found himself having to press in with both his legs to stay in one spot. "Is this right?"

"You're a natural," Sara beamed. The dragon gave a long, affectionate lick to the side of her arm. "Just remember to hang on."

* * *

"Everything looks so _small!_ "

Lloyd's face was one big windswept grin. Now that the simple shock of placing his life and the lives of his friends on the backs of these scaly, wonderful creatures had begun to wear off, he was able to focus on the sheer emptiness all around him, and the speed at which the ground whizzed by hundreds of feet below. With each beat of the dragon's wings, the bottom of his stomach dropped out then bounced back in a neverending cycle of adrenaline that he found rather addicting. "Can we do a backflip?!"

In front of him, her legs straddling the base of the blue dragon's neck, Sara threw her head back and laughed. She turned slightly to face him, that constant, high-altitude breeze whipping her hair about like flames. "Not today, Lloyd. Today, we take it nice and easy."

"But _some_ day?!"

"Sure!"

" _Alright!"_

About twenty meters ahead to their left was Iona, the point of their forward-facing V-shaped formation. Her wingbeats seemed much calmer and more confident than those of her juvenile friends, thanks to years of practice at accommodating riders. Raine and Colette were both infinitely thankful for this, and actually seemed to be enjoying themselves. The Chosen was seated in front, leaning forward, her arms hugging Iona's strong neck. Waves of golden hair fluttered all about her smiling face. Raine was just behind her, one arm wrapped securely around the dragon's silver spines as a makeshift anchor. She kept peering up into the sky, rather than down below. Strangely enough, her apprehension had melted into appreciation - of the creature she sat on, of the clouds just above her head… of the whole world, really. Seeing it from a distance made it seem far more… manageable.

Beside them them flew the third dragon, burgundy-red with charcoal grey wings. Her brother sat on this one, just behind Kratos, who had either lied about the amount of experience he'd had or was simply very adaptable, because he carried the air of someone who had done this for years. Raine had a feeling, though, that there wasn't really _anything_ that could perturb the mercenary - there certainly hadn't been so far.

Genis spared one anchoring arm to wave through the air at Lloyd, who returned it enthusiastically. The younger Sage's pale face was flushed and windbitten, but full of joy. This _might_ have been a dream of his since he was a very young, but he'd be caught dead before actually saying that in front of Sara.

"I can see Palmacosta!" Colette announced, her tiny voice just barely audible above wingbeats and the roaring wind.

Reality check. The trip may have been fun, but their reason for returning was anything but.

"Let's land a mile or so out," Sara shouted, half to her companions and half to Iona. "We don't want them spotting us."

Lloyd nodded, his expression dimming. Those exalted flips his stomach had been performing were now weighted down with a solid, relentless brick. "I hope everyone's alright..."

Sara glanced back at him, her chocolate eyes hard. "Me too, kid. Me too."

* * *

A/N: Hello wonderful people! They lyrics at the beginning of the chapter are from the song "I Of The Storm" by Of Monsters and Men. Listen to it nowwwww~ It's excellent :D And it inspired a lot of Sara's nightmare sequence!


	9. Sospes (Safety)

Chapter Nine

 _Sospes_

* * *

Solid ground just felt _boring_ now.

Sara emptied that leather pouch of its remaining contents, and fed Iona a great handful of jerky that was accepted with much slobber and vigor. With one final scratch beneath her chin, the dragon was back off into the wilderness with her two companions, and Lloyd, Genis and Colette were all waving them farewell.

The city loomed ahead. It appeared deceivingly bright and cheerful from the outside. Between the front gates and the Chosen's group was a mile-long stretch of familiar path, beset on either side by occasional thickets of trees and brush. They began hiking along it once again, only in the opposite direction this time.

No one spoke. The only sounds were their steady footsteps crunching the leaves and twigs littering the trail. Not knowing what the Desians were up to was almost worse than knowing.

Lloyd's thoughts kept drifting back to Iselia. He glared down at the dry earth, but all he really saw were flashes of burning homes… the Desians' smirking faces as they laughed at him. _Laughed,_ like he were a joke, just a fly to be merely swatted out of their way. And that horrid, mutated flesh of what had once been a loving, kind human being…

Bile rose in his throat. He scowled, his chest on fire. Acutely, he was very, very glad of his gut's decision to bring them all back here.

"Those damn Desians," he murmured. Colette was beside him, and her small face filled with worry when she looked up and saw the pained, embroiled expression he suddenly wore. "If they cause trouble in Palmacosta, they're going to _pay_!"

Raine turned to him, obviously concerned. She stopped walking entirely while the others did the same. Her voice was soft, yet clear and stern. "Lloyd, calm down. What's wrong?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes. "When I left Iselia, I swore I'd never let the Desians have their way again!"

Kratos watched the boy carefully. "Losing your cool will only lead to poor decisions."

Oh, that was _soooo typical,_ wasn't it? Calm and collected _Kratos_ , who always thought he was so _stupid...!_

Lloyd's eyes flew open, wild and furious. He cocked one fist back and aimed it straight for the man's face. "Oh, just _shut up!"_

Colette gasped, bringing one hand to her mouth. Kratos was made of steadfast stone, unflinching. He stared down at Lloyd with narrowed, challenging eyes.

"Lloyd," Raine began calmly. "Your feelings are always honest and pure. Nevertheless, that's no reason to treat your comrades this way."

That same fist now hung trembling at his side. "But… I…"

"We are worried about Palmacosta, but we're also worried about _you_." Raine waited a few seconds, silently, until he was able to meet her gaze. Beside her, Sara, Genis and Colette all nodded their agreement. "Understand?"

 _Worried… about_ me _?_ That blazing fire in his heart eased. Rage hollowed, shame and guilt replacing it. His tense shoulders slumped.

"...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like that," he admitted quietly.

Raine smiled a little. "...That's better. But am I the one you should be apologizing to?"

Lloyd bit back the sigh he wanted to breathe. His feet slowly shifted, and he turned to face the mercenary, who stood before him as an unforgiving, royal-blue mountain. Everything in him screamed for his eyes to stay mercifully focused on the dirt beneath Kratos' boots - but Lloyd steeled himself, forcing them to meet his.

"...Kratos. I was wrong. ...I'm sorry."

To Lloyd's complete surprise, there was nothing demeaning or scolding in Kratos' expression at all. If anything, it was just shy of pride.

"I take no offense," he said factually, and then he had turned away, leading them all along the path once more, the pointed tips of his cloak trailing behind him. "At any rate, let's keep going. We'll move quickly, but carefully."

It took Lloyd's throat a few seconds to begin working again. Now he was very confused, because at any other time, he was _sure_ Kratos would have unleashed an implacable torrent of wisdom at him…

He blinked, then nodded resolutely, though Kratos couldn't see it. "...Right."

* * *

Palmacosta's port sat completely empty and silent. Unlike their last visit, there were no fishermen unloading cargo, or warships preparing for launch. The market was lifeless, and no succulent smells could be found in the air. Even the seagulls seemed hesitant to cry out, like the air itself was heavy and cursed.

All this instantly set the Chosen's group on edge. The streets were vacant, too, and every one of their footfalls seemed to produce deafening echoes that bounced off the outer walls of a nearby shop or inn. If not for the geographical similarity, Palmacosta could very well have been located in an entirely different location.

Genis scowled, his eyes searching for any sign of the normal life they'd seen before. "I don't like this…"

"Me neither," Lloyd agreed, his lips pressed together in a nervous, wavering frown. "Where _is_ everyone?"

Just then, a chorus of shouts could be heard erupting from the downtown plaza at the city's heart. They didn't seem to be cries of celebration or victory, but rather a dark mixture of voices crying out in terror.

Kratos, whose steps had before been cautious, now strode forward with fearless confidence. One hand rested at its ubiquitous place on his sword's hilt. "Be on your guard. Our battle could begin at any moment." He remained solidly in front of Colette, while Lloyd and Sara were at her sides, blades and claws brandished and waiting. Raine followed directly behind her, and Genis beside his sister.

That fearful sound of many voices was back again, creeping unnervingly closer as the Chosen's group stalked deeper into the city. At last, they rounded the final corner and approached the small stone bridge that led into the main plaza.

A sea of heads greeted them, all facing away towards the plaza. A crude wooden stage had been erected just before the sacred front doors of the Martel temple, several meters high and with a tall, single-beam overhang. Though it was difficult to see, whatever was on its platform had the crowd's undivided attention.

Colette noticed it first, her face paling, her giant cerulean eyes becoming even moreso with horror and shock. Raine and Sara were next, wearing similar expressions of disgust and trepidation, while Lloyd and Genis looked on in utter disbelief. Kratos had his garnet eyes narrowed, his mouth pulled into a bitter frown - because this was not a mere stage on which the Desians were giving speeches warning of destruction and death. It was a gallows - a sickening, old-fashioned rig meant for the display of public execution. And it had already been painstakingly set up for its first victim.

Cacao, Chocolat's mother and owner of the quaint item shop they'd visited before, stood bent and withered in the middle of the platform. A rugged, thick rope had been fashioned in a noose around her frail neck, one end tied securely above her to the wooden beam. She looked rough and absolutely exhausted; that simple, pretty shawl around her shoulders was tattered and askew, while her blue tunic beneath was frayed in several spots and darkened with what everyone hoped were not bloodstains.

Icy dread gripped the Chosen's fluttering heart. Her breath caught in her throat, where one hand went to, her delicate fingers tracing along the shining surface of her Cruxis Crystal. The other reflexively reached for Lloyd and gripped a fistful of his sleeve for stability and comfort.

In some cruel twist of fate, Cacao now stood on top of where Colette had a few days earlier, when she'd offered her morning prayers to the Goddess. The Chosen wanted to speak, or at least utter some sound of protest… but found that her voice, much like the color from her cheeks, had vanished.

From the far end of the plaza came a storm of heavy footfalls. A group of three Desians strode forward, and although many others stood guard beside the waiting gallows, these newcomers were dressed differently, in intricate outfits that spoke of a higher order and greater powers. Two of them wore peculiar headdresses made from shining metal spires and rings, brandishing long gold and silver staffs of the same material. The third was clearly the leader - a bulldozer of a man with armored steel boots and a head of angry red dreadlocked hair that was pulled back in an explosive ponytail. His face was ragged and smug, with scars running across the bridge of his nose and over one protruding eye ridge. Deep-set, nearly black eyes glinted deviously as he walked ahead of his peers, his gait assertive, his broad shoulders squared and pulled back proudly.

Lloyd instantly hated him. He found himself taking a step forward, only to be stopped by the gentle tug of Colette's small hand still holding onto his sleeve.

"Out of the way," one of the soldiers bellowed. "Lord Magnius approaches!"

Several members of the audience, who had heard that name but never before had a face to put it to, shrank back in fear. One young man cowered beside his family, trembling, and swallowed hard as he muttered, "Magnius… from the eastern ranch…?"

Magnius' steps halted abruptly. He turned around slowly, raking his glare across the gathered crowd like the swing of a broadsword before settling it on the hapless man who had spoken. His obsidian eyes narrowed, that hardened, scarred face pulling into an abhorrent scowl.

"That's _Lord_ Magnius, _vermin_." In one movement, his hand clenched around the man's throat, raised his flailing body into the air, and crushed his neck like a mere collection of twigs. His body was tossed back to the feet of the screaming family, landing with a thud like a useless laden sack.

Genis' knees weakened. He half-collapsed against his sister's side and tried in vain to not notice the way that man's head was now bent at an entirely wrong angle. "He… he just…"

"Don't look anymore." Raine buried her hand in the boy's hair, turning his head away, though her own was fixated forward. "Just… don't look."

Magnius continued on. He paused at the stairs to the gallows, turning his eyes now to Cacao, who refused to look at anything but the contrarily beautiful, clear-blue sky.

"This woman defied the wishes of the great Lord Magnius and refused to provide us with supplies," another guard announced. He lifted one arm, slicing his sword through the air. "Therefore, while the designated death count has been exceeded, we have been granted orders to carry out this woman's execution."

Lloyd's insides felt like grinding, frigid rocks. He grit his teeth and growled through them. "Dammit! Why isn't the city militia doing anything to stop this?!"

Beside him, a member of the audience spoke up sadly: "Most of them are out on training exercises right now. The rest have… already been killed."

"They must have waited for this chance," Sara ground out. Her fingers kept curling and straightening in a rage-fueled, anxious cycle. "Soulless _bastards_."

Suddenly, over the nervous hum of the crowd, a sharp, frantic shout rended the air: " _Mom_!"

The sea of warm bodies parted as Chocolat flung herself forward, elbowing others carelessly out of her way. Her russet eyes were wide and furious. She stumbled forward and out of the crowd, and would've bounded up the gallows stairway if not for the pair of Desians that cut her off. She skidded to a halt before them, heaving for breath, hands clenched into fists. Cacao stared down at her daughter from her morbid throne, tense and horrified.

"Stop right there, woman!" One of the soldiers sneered, using his metallic staff to shove Chocolat in the shoulder. "If you interfere, we'll make you suffer in ways that will leave you begging for death."

"You think Governor-General Dorr will let you get away with this?" she spat.

"Dorr?" Magnius approached, grinning darkly. "Don't get your hopes up, woman."

Chocolat bristled and opened her mouth to retort - but it slammed shut again instantly. Magnius had one hand lifted in the air, his finger cocked and ready in a signal to his henchman beside Cacao on the gallows stage. Chocolat's breath caught - her panicked eyes fixated on that one finger, willing it to retreat, or better yet, cease to exist at all.

The air grew eerily still. Silence hovered ominously. There was a shuffling off to the side, and then the _whizz_ of something sailing through the air - Magnius' left eye twitched, a near-imperceptible flinch, as a small rock impacted his temple. Its clatter to the stone ground was louder than the greatest clap of thunder.

Magnius slowly turned. A young boy stood out among the crowd, his outstretched arm still lowering to his side.

" _You_ ," the Desian breathed, teeth clenching. "Disgusting little vermin!"

The boy paled, but stood firm. He seemed to flood with resignation, his youthful face suddenly aging into something ancient and worn. As Magnius took a step towards him, he closed his eyes.

But the pain never came. There was a chorus of startled voices, and the swift slicing of twin blades through the salty sea air. When the boy opened his eyes once more, the first thing he saw was a bright flash of red - a mere blur before it settled into reality and formed a solid shape.

Lloyd's body had reacted before his thoughts. He glared down at Magnius, breathing hard. The Desian had been forced back several steps, a gaping slash now spanning across one shoulder that he reached up and touched in utter disbelief.

Lloyd's companions were instantly behind him, poised and ready, teetering on the edge of action. Raine's hushed voice was at his ear, though her eyes kept fixated on Magnius as his soldiers helped him to his feet and began tending to his wound. "Lloyd, stop. Do you want to turn this city into the next Iselia?"

"It's not the same," Lloyd muttered resolutely. He shook his head, blades still waiting before his chest. "This city doesn't have a non-aggression treaty with the Desians. How can we go on a quest to regenerate the world when we can't even save the people standing right in front of us?!"

"Lloyd's right," the Chosen agreed, looking back and forth between her friend and Raine desperately. Her hands were balled into fists and held beneath her chin. "I won't just stand here and let this happen!"

One of the soldiers narrowed his eyes in recognizance as he stepped towards Lloyd. "...You! You're wanted criminal #0074, Lloyd Irving!"

Magnius laughed, a smirk crawling through his grimace. "Well, now. So you're that boy with the Exsphere. Heh, this is perfect!" He flung out one hand, jabbing a finger at Lloyd. "After I take that Exsphere from you, they'll make me leader of the Five Grand Cardinals! Get them!"

That pair of Desians with the staffs sprung into action, the ground beneath their feet bursting with churning, glowing emblems. A trio of fireballs, white-hot and dripping flames, shot out from the tips of their staffs and straight at Lloyd - but he heard that familiar _swish-click!_ of a kendama, and Genis was before him, blocking the spells. Each fireball impacted his Force Field harmlessly, shattering into tiny, rolling globules of flame that petered out on the stone ground.

Genis smiled smugly. He tucked his kendama once again into the rear waistband of his shorts. "Amateurs."

"Dammit," Magnius hissed. "You worthless idiots! Enough of this. Let's see how _this_ affects your abundant morale: I'll take care of that woman first." At last, he signalled the waiting hangman.

The trap door beneath Cacao's feet fell through. The rope tightened mercilessly around her neck and she inhaled a strangled gasp. The crowd screamed, mortified. Her head craned, chin up, her legs flailing uselessly. The rope swung side to side like she were bait on a lure.

" _No!"_ Colette shouted; her chakrams came out instantly. She spun and launched one with practiced skill towards the gallows. It sliced cleanly through the swaying rope. At the same time, Sara lunged forward and caught the free-falling woman securely in her arms. She made short work of Cacao's remaining binds with her claws, and then Chocolat was frantically embracing her mother, patting and pressing at her neck for any signs of further damage. Cacao simply stood there, breathing in and out slowly, savoring the feel of air passing once again through her throat.

Magnius blinked. "What the…?!" Fuming, he stalked towards the mother and daughter - although he didn't make it halfway before Kratos' gleaming sword had given his other arm a matching wound. Magnius groaned in pain, collapsing to one knee, unsure of which arm to cradle or favor now that both were screaming at him.

Kratos straightened his broad back as he returned his blade to its scabbard. His arms folded across his chest, that sharp jaw tilting defiantly. "...Let us respect the wishes of the Chosen."

Every eye found its way to Colette, who was putting away her chakrams and watching Cacao and Chocolat with a relieved smile. A low hum of chatter whispered through the crowd.

"The Chosen?"

"...She is the Chosen?"

"The Chosen has come to save us!"

Raine ignored them. She glanced from her brother to Kratos, then Sara and finally to Lloyd. "Do you all realize what you're doing? Now this city may be attacked just like Iselia…"

Lloyd met her gaze steadfastly. "That's right! And I know full well what I'm doing. I won't repeat the same mistake again." For a moment, Raine released a comforted sigh - but then Lloyd spoke again: "I'm going to destroy the entire ranch!"

"Lloyd," she said darkly. "That's _insanity_."

"Uh," Sara started, frowning. "I'm on your side, Lloyd, but… Raine's right. A ranch is nothing to scoff at."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "They're only really after Colette and me, anyway. And besides…" He turned to his blonde friend. "We have the Chosen on our side, the savior who will regenerate the world! Right, Colette?"

Kratos' garnet eyes thinned. He watched the way Colette tried to smile, a painful comparison to Lloyd's proud, hopeful grin.

"Yup," she said brightly. "I'm going to fight for everyone's sake."

"Oh, lady Colette," a bystander shouted, his voice wavering in awe. "The great Chosen of Mana!"

Raine threw her hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. "I give up. You're all hopeless."

Sara pouted, fists on her hips. "Hey, _I_ agreed with you!"

"But," the Professor continued begrudgingly. Though her back was turned to Lloyd, she glanced at him over one shoulder. "I'll help, since I'd be worried about you otherwise."

Lloyd breathed an ecstatic laugh. "Professor Sage! Thank you!"

By this time, Magnius seemed to have gathered himself. Though his wounds were still raw and bleeding, he stood solidly, growling through gritted teeth. "Damned little… enough of this crap! I'm leaving them to you." He turned away, shooting Lloyd a furious glare. "Get rid of them!"

Those two staff-wielding Desians stepped forward, followed by another with a sword, and a final one with a long leather whip. Their metallic boots made grating scraping noises on the stone ground, strangely loud over the humming, hushed voices. The sword-wielder lead the others. The tip of his blade shone in the sunlight, outstretched and pointed straight between Lloyd's determined eyes.

"How dare you lay a hand on Lord Magnius," he growled. "You're all dead!"

Kratos' sword returned to his hand impossibly fast. "Lloyd. Sara. Each of you take a magic user. Cover one another. Genis, focus on the one carrying the whip. His armor is weak to magic. I will take care of the leader. Raine, Chosen - you know what to do."

Colette's wings burst forth from her back, glittering brilliantly. Her tiny hands clasped together at her breast and she closed her eyes. Her feet lifted a few inches off of the ground, and she hovered in the air over swirling circles of holy light. Translucent feathers rained all about her as she began muttering a spell: "Holy wings, I beg of thee to reveal thy glory…" The crowd, though many had fled and the rest had backed up quite a distance, watched her silently, transfixed.

Genis was in front of her, beginning a spell of his own, the red ball of his kendama soaring and snaking expertly before him. Lloyd and Sara were like forked lightning, splitting apart to flank the swordsman and the whip master in a beeline for the others. They impacted simultaneously, Lloyd's blades screeching against the Desian's staff while Sara leapt over her target entirely. He tried to turn, defending himself with his weapon. Sara landed, crouched low, and shot forward with one hand, slashing her claws across his thigh. He stumbled backwards just as Lloyd unleashed a flurry of thrusts and slashes at his own foe. The teen's Exsphere gleamed brightly. His eyes hardened, and he took in a quick, steadying breath before lunging straight ahead with one blade, shouting " _Sonic Thrust!"_

The Desian flew backwards. Sara spun, catching her foe's staff in the spikes of her gauntlets and sending it thudding to the ground. The soldier with the sword came at Kratos rather clumsily; the mercenary parried with ease. Genis at last unleashed his spell: " _Wind Blade!"_ (coincidentally, the one he'd been trying to practice) and the air came alive around the last Desian, slicing and whipping at him with invisible razorlike edges.

The Chosen opened her eyes at last, alight with an amethyst shine. " _Angel Feathers!"_ From each of her shoulders, a pair of missile-like feathers erupted. Each one shot forward, overtop of her companions' heads, trailing sparks through the air like a fireworks display. One by one, the projectiles homed in on their opponents, piercing cleanly through cloth and flesh. The battle ended just as Colette's small white boots settled back to the ground, her golden hair once again falling into place along her back. She let out a breath. Her wings flickered and vanished.

There were still a handful of soldiers left, but rather than pick up where their comrades had left off, they bolted in the opposite direction and after Magnius. The crowd erupted in cheers, several citizens approaching Colette and falling to their knees before her, hurriedly offering an endless array of praise and blessings. Bright, cherry red bloomed across her pale cheeks. She smiled sheepishly, mumbling "Oh please don't"s and "It was no trouble"s that drowned in the vast sea of admiration.

"Finally!" Lloyd was grinning proudly as he watched her. He returned his blades to their sheaths. "Colette gets the kind of praise she deserves. None of this stupid assassin or impostors stuff."

Genis was smiling too. "Yeah, it's kind of nice! This is how she should be treated all the time."

Cacao and her daughter slowly approached the Chosen's group. Chocolat had one arm around her mother, who was once again beaming with purpose and kindness, her harrowing ordeal at the gallows seeming a mere memory.

"Thank you so much for your help," Chocolat said brightly. "If you hadn't come, then… I don't know what would've happened to my mom."

"The Goddess has truly blessed us this day," Cacao agreed. Though it was difficult given her injuries, she bent forward in a reverent bow. Colette's eyes widened and she instantly helped the older woman stand back up. "Please, don't strain yourself…"

Kratos sheathed his own sword, and Sara stepped up beside him, a strange, inquisitive look on her face as she watched the others. "I… just don't get it."

His eyes narrowed. "Get what?"

"If the 'Goddess' really _blessed_ them… why was she almost hung to death?" Sara shook her head, her freckled face darkening in thought. "Do they just forget about that part? Like it doesn't matter?"

Kratos sighed. Colette was now awkwardly shaking hands with several citizens, looking a bit overwhelmed. "It is human nature to turn positive experiences into perceived reward for suffering, regardless of how the experience came about."

Sara continued to watch them intently. "A reward, huh. Do you think Colette believes that?"

"...Those who suffer the greatest perceive the greatest reward." He paused, his features softening just slightly. "I think it is she who believes it most of all."

* * *

Cacao set down a wooden tray on top of the Chosen's table. Its simple ceramic teacups and small matching saucers rattled softly. The smile never left the older woman's kind face as she picked up a steaming kettle from the nearby stove, and began dutifully pouring fresh tea into each cup. Much to Colette's chagrin, and after much more insisting, she and her group had finally acquiesced to a returned favor from Chocolat and her mother in the form of a simple brunch. Well, Lloyd and Sara didn't take much convincing, really, considering an offer of food was involved.

"Thank you. You really didn't have to do this," Colette mumbled for the millionth time. She herself sat at the head of the table ("Oh, you mustn't sit anywhere else, my lady!"), while the others joined her around its edges.

"We may as well enjoy ourselves," Raine said, relaxing back into her chair. "We don't know how long this peace will last. This doesn't happen to us very often."

Lloyd wiped his mouth once more with his soft linen napkin. "Those croissants were delicious! Thank you!"

Cacao nodded. "It was our pleasure."

"Yeah, absolutely," Chocolat agreed. She took all of their empty plates one by one, stacking them with practiced ease. "I don't know what I would've done if they'd murdered my mom as well…"

Genis swallowed the last bite of his food with a painful gulp. "...'As well?'"

Cacao's tea-pouring faltered just slightly, sending a few drops spilling over the edge of one cup. She frowned. Hastily, she used one tip of her apron to dab up the mess. "My husband volunteered for Governor-General Dorr's army… and was killed in battle against the Desians. And my mother was… taken to the ranch."

The Chosen's head lowered respectfully. Those of her friends did the same.

Genis stared down at his hands. "I'm very sorry."

"It was Grandma that originally founded this shop," Chocolat said. "We have to protect it - not just for ourselves, but for Grandma's sake, when she returns."

"Don't lose that," Sara murmured thoughtfully. "Keep hoping for her. I'm sure she appreciates it."

Chocolat nodded resolutely. She set her stack of dishes in the sink and wiped her hands. "I'm sorry, but I'd better get going soon." Her eyes flicked to a clock on the far wall. "It's almost time for the next Asgard pilgrimage."

Lloyd's brow furrowed. "Asgard pilgrimage?"

"I work at the Church of Martel travel agency." Chocolat paused. She quickly pulled her chestnut hair back into a ponytail. Her gaze shifted out the window, to the spire of the temple in the distance, reaching above all the other structures and towards the sky. "...But it's not like I believe in Martel or anything."

Cacao gasped. Thankfully she'd finished with the tea, or it likely would've ended up everywhere. "Chocolat! How can you say such a thing?! And in the presence of the Chosen herself…?" Colette slumped down in her chair, wanting to disappear.

"I know, I know," Chocolat sighed. This was obviously a conversation that had happened many times before. "I'm grateful for the Chosen. But… Martel didn't protect Dad or Grandma. Even this time, it wasn't Martel, but the Chosen and her companions that saved you!" She shook her head. Her eyes were hard, earthen steel. "How can anyone believe in a goddess that sleeps while we suffer?"

Colette stood suddenly, as if she'd been launched from her seat. Her sheepish demeanor had vanished and was replaced with one of confidence and purpose. She met Chocolat's eyes evenly and with an earnest nod that swayed her thick golden hair. "I understand. But I still think Martel exists."

Chocolat was speechless for a few moments. "You… think so?"

"I'm sure of it," Colette agreed adamantly. "She exists inside you and me." Cacao was nodding too, a bit tearful.

"Well, if the Chosen says so…" Chocolat let out a breath and smiled a little. "I'll at least try to believe."

An elated grin bloomed on Colette's gentle face. "That's all I could ever ask. Thank you."

Lloyd still seemed a bit puzzled. His fingertips absently fiddled with the dainty handle of his teacup. "Are there really people that want to go on a pilgrimage right after what just happened here?"

Kratos gracefully set his own down onto its saucer after a sip. "It's after events like this that both those with and without faith feel the need to go on a journey in search of salvation."

"That pretty much sums it up," Chocolat confirmed. She began slipping on a dark green vest over her tunic, with a company patch hemmed into the breast. "Our tours tend to be largest just after a tragedy. Pilgrimages have a way of taking people's minds off all the bad things."

"I'm sure the fact that they're doing something to please Martel helps as well," Raine added. "Gaining the Goddess' favor could surely never hurt."

Last to be worn was a burlap satchel, which Chocolat slung over one shoulder and across her chest. She shrugged, finding Colette's gaze again. "Maybe one day I'll be able to join them as a follower instead of a guide."

"I hope so, Chocolat," the Chosen said brightly.

"Well then, I'm off. Thank you all very much." Chocolat offered one last wave over her shoulder as she left the room and trotted down the stairs.

Kratos drained the rest of his tea and stood silently. "We should be moving on as well."

"Of course." Cacao bowed gratefully, this time managing to hide her wince. "May the rest of your journey be full of many blessings."

Remarkably, the streets and canals of Palmacosta had returned completely to normal, that buzz of chatter once again mingling with seagull caws and the constant swishing of water. Lloyd couldn't decide if this was a good or a bad thing, really. Part of him marveled at their strength to move on from such a disturbing event. But their ability to do so undoubtedly came from practice, and he found that revolting as well as simply sad.

The Chosen continued to receive stares and praise as she and the others headed back out of town, once again set on their northeastern course. In truth, she was glad to be leaving. She enjoyed the fact that she'd brought hope to the city, but it also put enormous pressure on her thin shoulders, of which there was already plenty. It seemed hard to walk. She straightened her back, mentally chiding herself for letting it slump again.

They all walked in silence for awhile before Sara finally spoke. "Okay! So…" She clapped her hands once then rubbed them together, grinning hopefully. "We should head back to that House of Salvation, right? To get the statue?"

"The state of Spiritua, yes," Raine corrected with a nod. "We need to return our focus to releasing the seals. Right, Colette?"

Colette stared down at her boots. She didn't seem to hear the Professor, and instead kept plodding steadily forward. Lloyd nudged her in the shoulder, his eyebrows wiggling playfully. Her head snapped up, her lips forming a small 'O' of surprise before she smiled chastenedly. "Oh, uh… um… I'm sorry. Yes, we need the statue so we can see the Book of Regeneration."

"Then our course is set," Kratos announced. The plains stretched endlessly ahead. His fingers drummed steadily against the hilt of his sword. "...Again."


	10. Prudentia (Wisdom)

Chapter Ten

 _Prudentia_

* * *

Genis sighed and kicked at the thousandth stone for the thousandth time on this trail they'd walked on for a _thousand_ miles. The occasional monster would show itself, usually an oversized insect or a couple of bears, so at least he'd gotten time to sharpen his skills a bit. But there was one persistent thought that hovered in the back of his head, even after the battles, and he found himself speaking it aloud into the warm afternoon air.

"The Desians are half-elves…?"

Raine gave him a startled look, but it was Kratos who responded in a factual tone. "Yes. It's said they are almost entirely composed of half-elves."

Lloyd eyed his best friend curiously. "Why'd you bring that up all of the sudden?"

"I was just thinking… they're of the same blood as I am." He blinked, and the unwelcome memory of that poor man's snapped neck burned behind his eyes. He shuddered. "How can they do such terrible things?"

"Ah, that's right," Lloyd said hesitantly. "You're an elf."

Genis cleared his throat, looking a bit diffident. "Y-yeah."

"I know what you mean," Lloyd sighed. He waved one hand in front of his face, absently swatting away a group of gnats. His expression fell grim. "When I think about how they're at least half-human, I wonder how they can do the things they do."

"'Human' has more than one meaning," Sara offered. Her right thumb brushed across the Exsphere on the back of her left hand. "To really call yourself _human_ , you've got to care for others at least a little bit. ...As far as I'm concerned, the Desians aren't human at all."

"Why are they like that, though?" Genis asked, almost desperate. "There has to be some reason…"

Kratos narrowed his eyes. His head tilted to one side pensively. "Don't you think they've been persecuted?"

Those unforgiving cold onyx walls of Iselia's human ranch rose up in Lloyd's thoughts, and how they'd haunted him and his village for most of his life. He thought of Marble, and the other pale, withered bodies he'd seen milling about the ranch's courtyard like a herd of wandering ghosts.

"That's because they treat us like cattle," he said lividly.

Kratos looked away. Overhead, a pair of birds tweeted an avian conversation, and he glanced up to see one flee the trees in a flustered hurry. "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?..."

Confusion scrunched up Lloyd's face. Although, really, he should've expected such a weird, cryptic response from the mercenary, whose normal rhetoric seemed to consist of either scolding him or wistfully mumbling strange phrases. " _What_?"

The breath left Kratos' lungs in a long, resigned sigh. "...Nothing."

"It wouldn't matter if we knew," Sara said. Kratos looked at her inquisitively, though the distant mountains held her attention. "Even if we traced discrimination back to its origin thousands of years ago, and we knew exactly who to blame… it wouldn't matter. Someone, somewhere, would just screw it all up again."

Raine shook her head, frowning. "That's a defeatist attitude. Hopelessness is the easy way out. Actually making a change is the difficult path."

Sara met the Professor's gaze, her shoulders squaring. She smirked cynically. "Oh, I'm not defeatist - I'm a realist. Ignoring reality won't change anything, either. The world's not all candy and rainbows."

"That sounds so nice," Colette exclaimed suddenly, looking to the sky. "A world made entirely of candy and rainbows!"

"I could eat _everything!"_ Lloyd agreed excitedly.

"Not if I do first!" Genis challenged.

"Oh, I bet bridges would be made from taffy! And clouds from cotton candy, and trees from licorice, and…"

Kratos sighed a second time, only Raine and Sara now joined in.

"Well," Sara began, countering Kratos' look of disdain with a sheepish smile. "It's better than hangmen and death quotas, at least."

He didn't return it, but that brooding countenance softened into something close to agreeance. "...Indeed."

* * *

The Grand Priest stared at Lloyd like he'd sprouted a third eye. "You say you… want the Spiritua Statue?"

Lloyd nodded again. "I know it's a brazen request, but it's for the world regeneration."

Colette was beside him, and her big blue eyes were earnest and pleading. "Please, Father."

That seemed to do the trick, because after only a few moments, the Priest relented with a soft smile. He cleared his throat and idly adjusted the tall, regal hat atop his balding head. "If the Chosen asks, then we will of course not hesitate to lend our aid." He glanced at another, much younger priest over his shoulder. "...Bring the statue here."

Instead of doing just that, however, the second priest began sweating profusely, his pudgy face turning an uncomfortable shade of tomato-red. "M… my most humble apologies!"

Lloyd gave the now repeatedly-bowing priest a curious look. "What's wrong?"

"This Spiritua Statue is actually a fake I had placed here," he mumbled dejectedly.

Sara held one hand over her scowling face. "Of _course_ it is."

Rather flustered, the Grand Priest's mustache practically bristled. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I lost the real Spiritua Statue on a pilgrimage a year ago…"

"The pilgrimage is the Church of Martel's spiritual training journey, right? Why would you take the statue along with you?" Lloyd asked.

The Grand Priest sighed in resignation. "The halo on the head of the Spiritua statue is made of diamond. We always take it with us when we go out on pilgrimages in order to protect it from thieves."

"On the trip last year, I followed that custom as usual, and brought the statue with me to Thoda Island," tomato-face continued. "But there, I… accidentally dropped it into the geyser."

Raine's glare could've pierced through Hakonesia Peak itself, but it was Lloyd who said what everyone was thinking: "Why'd you have to take it to a place like that?!"

"I am terribly sorry…" More fervently prostrate bows. "I was so moved upon seeing the geyser for the first time… By the time I realized it, the statue had fallen onto the rocks on the on the other side of the geyser. Desperate, I paid a visit to a dwarf who lives in Iselia and had him make something just like it."

Genis' eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, that'd be Dirk."

"Dad…" Lloyd wondered aloud. He thought back to his home, mentally scanning walls of Dirk's work area for any memory of such a statue. "Just what kind of jobs are you doing?"

"Well then," Kratos began, his smooth voice once again bringing everyone back to reality. "What shall we do now? Do you think the fake will fool that old man?"

Raine grimaced and fought off a wave of nausea. "That doesn't seem likely. It's well-built, but it's still a fake. That collector was… many things… but he wasn't a fool."

"Um, um…" Colette's hands wrung together before she finally forced the words out. "How about if we go get the real one?"

That wave of nausea rose again with a vengeance. Raine dug her staff into the floor and gripped it for stability against memory-induced seasickness. "Y-you… want to go all the way to Thoda Island? And into a geyser?"

"Yeah, that's the problem." Lloyd gulped. "Even I'll pass on getting hit with boiling water."

"Oh, my, Lloyd," the Professor beamed. "You remembered that a geyser is a geological formation that erupts with boiling water… I'm so proud!"

"Lloyd, you're amazing!" Colette added sincerely.

The teen shrugged, absently inspecting the back of his hand. "Of course. Everyone knows that."

Genis elbowed his friend in the ribs. "I bet you just guessed…"

"Sh… shut up…"

Kratos frowned. "...Humph."

"If only we could stop the geyser," Colette said.

"Oh, we won't need to," Sara assured, grinning. "Iona can get it for us. Dragons can't be burned. In fact, she's used that exact geyser as a bathtub before."

Lloyd blinked. "W-wow, really?"

"It gets rid of scale-mites."

Genis recoiled, feeling suddenly itchy. "Eww…"

"Alright then, problem solved!" Lloyd was already halfway to the front door. "Let's go!"

"It's nearly sunset," the Professor observed, peering out the ancient window beside her shoulder. "And we're already here. Let's just spend the night. We can leave first thing in the morning."

* * *

Dinner had been made and promptly eaten - a cheese risotto by Genis that went over very well for all involved. Now with full bellies, Lloyd and Genis had both already made their way back upstairs to bed, but Kratos, Sara, Raine and Colette remained outside by the fire, not quite ready for sleep. Raine was perusing an old book with Colette, who sat beside her, listening intently. Across from them, Kratos was nearing the last sips of his hot tea, while Sara stood nearby, facing the northern mountains. She remained still at first, both hands at her sides as she stared ahead with intent, narrowed eyes - but then one hand would lash out, her claws slicing through the night air. Her palm would glow for a moment, flames flickering across its surface. Just as quickly as it appeared, however, the fire would fade into harmless smoke.

This happened each time - and with each attempt ending in a various string of curses. Kratos watched her, admittedly a bit entertained, as he finished his tea. Every failed try fanned her anger, which lessened her concentration, which brought about more anger in an endless, ridiculous cycle she was obviously failing to recognize.

"Ahh! ...Hyah! ...Ugh!" Breathing hard, Sara growled and glared down at her fingers like she wanted to pry them off. "Dammit… Stay _lit_ , stupid hand..."

Kratos set down his cup and approached her quietly. "You lack the refinement to properly control fire. You won't get anywhere that way."

Sara turned to face him with wide eyes, a bit startled. "Oh. Kratos." She frowned, meeting his even look with an acidic glare. "Well, gee, thanks for telling me something I already know. ...Smartass."

Slowly, he extended his own hand towards her, palm-up. "...Let me see your hand."

Her gaze flicked from his fingers to his eyes and back several times. His expression was unreadable and stony, unchanging.

"O...okay." Hesitantly, she rested the back of her hand against his offered palm. It was warm, which she found a bit surprising, given his typical icy demeanor.

The mercenary nodded. "Summon your flames. _Softly_ ," he emphasized. "Let it be gentle at first."

Sara swallowed hard and nodded back. "...Alright."

The very center of her hand tingled with warmth that began first at her Exsphere, then straight through bone and muscle to her palm. Small flames bloomed there, like a flower opening, petals spreading to kiss the moonlight. Their muted light cast dancing shadows across his veiled face.

"Controlling the fire element is all about using one's breath," Kratos continued. Their eyes met, cinnamon against chocolate. "Much like blowing out a candle, your flames will extinguish if met with excess air. The durability and strength of your fire depends entirely on the ability to keep your breathing smooth and even."

"My breath," she echoed quietly. The flames in her palm remained, though they twitched almost eagerly. "Okay. Smooth and even."

"Start by inhaling." His burgundy head tilted, gesturing to her hand. "The flames will shrink."

A long, purposeful breath entered her chest - sure enough, that quivering ball of fire reduced itself over halfway, from the size of an apple to that of a lime. "Do you see?"

"...Yes," she responded, awed.

His eyes glinted. "Now. Slowly, softly exhale."

That breath passed through her lips. Her palm's warmth grew remarkably, spreading into her fingers and wrist.

"Feel how they grow," Kratos continued gently. "But not -"

The tail end of her exhale came out as an excited rush. The flames blew apart and vanished, their dying sparks washing away with the night breeze.

"...Dammit," she muttered again.

"- too much."

Sara sighed, her shoulders slumping. What was this, the _twentieth_ time she'd failed? Maybe this wasn't meant to be. Maybe she was kidding herself…

"Clearly, I'm still doing something wrong. Maybe I'm not cut out for magic…"

Kratos shook his head deliberately. "You are confined only by what you think of yourself. If you want to succeed, you will."

Oh. Well, then.

Her mouth fell open a little. Once again, he'd managed to make her feel utterly and wonderfully stupid for doubting herself. How did he always _do_ that?

She stared at him for a few moments before finally whispering, "O-okay."

"Now," he began, steadfast and sincere. "Try again."

The world seemed to fall away behind him. His voice buzzed in her head as she closed her eyes. Bit by bit, the fire crawled back into her grasp. Beside the campfire, Raine and Colette glanced in her direction, watching curiously.

Kratos nodded. "Remember: control and persistence. Smooth and even. Let the flames work _for_ you, not against you. Inhale."

Sara did. She was silent, feeling nothing but her own rushing blood and the consistent, comforting pressure of his palm on the back of her hand. Once again, the flickering flames began to shrink.

"Good. Remember that you are in control. Let out your breath. Feel the flames grow, bit by bit."

Another exhale. She reigned it in this time, concentrating, letting the warmth wash across her skin, welcoming it. When her lungs were empty, the fire still remained, and it felt hotter. Stronger. She stared down at it, stunned.

"Again," he commanded. "Just like that."

"Just…" Another cycle of breath. Another success. "...like that…" She started to smile, a tentative twitch of the corners of her mouth.

Kratos stepped back, dropping his hand to his side. She didn't seem to notice. "...With practice, you will know how far you can push the fire. Your flames are hottest just before they extinguish. Being able to balance them there, right on the edge of excess, is the true heart of fire magic."

Her face was lit up, from the fire's light as well as a sense of pride and accomplishment. She raised her hand in the air, swiveling her wrist, making the flames slide sinuously between and around her fingers. No matter the direction, they stayed needily glued to her skin, unwilling to let go.

"That makes _total_ sense. I never thought of it that way before." She met his eyes, still smiling. "I always kind of thought I related to fire, so I figured this'd be easy. But as it turns out, it's _too much_ like me: stubborn, not very approachable, and prone to violent outbursts."

He rested one hand on his sword's hilt. His fingertips absently brushed along the crimson gem at its base. He watched her move, the way her outstretched arm gracefully twisted before her, serpentine and confident, as if she were performing a ritualistic dance to appease some ancient, scalding god.

"Becoming familiar with fire magic requires patience, persistence, and an open mind. It is the most volatile of all the elements." For some reason, his own voice felt strange and distant. It was soft, and seemed to be more air than words. "...But fire gives life in the form of the Sun, and the heat that fuels this planet's cycle."

She was laughing now, triumphantly, a joyous celebration. That hand was still undulating above her head, and her grin was blinding, as bright and brilliant as her newfound flames.

"Therefore, in a sense," he finished, "it is also… the most beautiful."

"Look. Look, Kratos! I've got it!"

He found himself smiling a little, too. "You learn quickly."

Sara's hand curled into a fist as she brought it against her chest. The fire vanished, though her fingers tingled with its warmth. "Well, I… have a good instructor." Her cheeks were still flushed with victory as she looked at him. "Thank you, Kratos."

"...It was nothing." He turned halfway, glaring at her over one broad shoulder. "Perhaps now you will be a bit more useful in battle."

Her chin tilted proudly. "Just watch me."

She was still practicing as he began to head inside. Kratos paused for a moment in the doorway, finding it difficult to look away. His feet felt strangely heavy. It took an inappropriate amount of will to move them any further.

"...Goodnight, Sara."

"Smooth and even. Slow, and soft…"

* * *

Lloyd couldn't sleep.

He laid on his back on the thin mattress, hands behind his head. He'd already counted every beam in the ceiling three times. Mentally, he'd gone over and practiced each one of his techniques. He turned onto his side, sighing, staring across the room at the small silhouette of Genis' shoulders. He thought he'd heard the boy move a few moments ago, so maybe he hadn't fallen asleep yet, either.

"Genis. You awake?"

"...No."

"You can't sleep either, huh?"

There was a pause as Genis turned onto his back. "...I guess not."

Lloyd's left hand was resting beside his face on the pillow. He turned it from side to side, intently watching the way the moonlight bounced off of his Exsphere's glassy surface. "Can I ask you something?"

Genis made a small noise of exasperation. "Duh, Lloyd. What?"

"What would you do if you were a half-elf?"

Lloyd couldn't see it, but Genis' sleepy eyes flew open wide.

"I mean," Lloyd continued thoughtfully. "Would you hate humans? Would you become a Desian? Or would… you try and get along with everyone else?"

Genis glanced at his friend. His mouth opened once, but no sound came out. He turned away again, shifting onto his side, though he couldn't seem to get comfortable. "I… I don't know, Lloyd. Why do you always think about stuff like this?"

"I can't help it," Lloyd muttered. "It's just how my brain works, I guess."

Genis huffed a laugh. "At least _something_ in your brain works."

"Shut up! Fine then, go back to sleep."

Lloyd's sheets rustled as he whipped over to his other side. He glared out the window and at a stray cloud as it passed over the moon. From outside, he could just barely hear the distant buzzing of cicadas, a strangely comforting sound.

"...Lloyd?" came a small voice, after a long silence.

"Yeah?"

"I… I wouldn't be a Desian," Genis mumbled, barely audible. "I'm not sure what I'd do, but, I… I wouldn't do that."

Lloyd smiled a little and let out a long breath. "I know, Genis. Thanks… for answering me."

"You're… you're welcome."

* * *

Dawn exploded over the rocky horizon, a burst of gold and orange through the unmarred sky. As the sun climbed steadily heavenward, Colette pushed open the House of Salvation's front door and stepped outside. Her still somewhat bleary expression instantly brightened at the sight. She smiled wide, pausing for just a moment to take in an appreciative breath through her nose.

Lloyd, still groggy and rubbing his eyes, almost ran into her back. He blinked down at her beaming face inquisitively. The way the sun's rays lit up her smooth cheeks and shone on her flaxen hair was picturesque and appropriately angelic. She peered up at him, and he smiled back at her.

"It's a beautiful morning, Lloyd," she said.

He nodded. His chest felt suddenly, strangely full. "Y-yeah, Colette. It is."

They made their way outside. Genis followed them, his eyes half-lidded, his shoulders crunched under the weight of his pack. Contrarily, his sister was wide awake and alert, peering distractedly at her map. Kratos followed a moment later, his eyes thinning as they met the sunlight. Sara was last, holding a tin thermos in one hand and sipping on the still-steaming coffee inside.

"Let's head out," Raine announced, rolling up her parchment map and sticking it back in its place in her overcoat. "I feel like a broken record, but we really can't afford to waste anymore time."

"Chosen One! Everyone!"

A storm of footfalls came from their left. Three Palmacosta Army soldiers, in full defensive armor, were jogging along the trail towards them - although it looked like it would've been a sprint still if not for their obvious exhaustion. They had apparently been travelling overnight, which meant that whatever reason gave them speed must have been important.

Colette stepped forward. "What is it?"

Their leader paused before the small girl, and gave her his best panting bow. "We have a message from Dorr. He would like you to temporarily postpone your journey of regeneration."

Raine flung her arms in the air with a growling sigh. The map fell from her breast pocket and wafted to the ground, and she completely gave into the rage-induced urge to stomp on it repeatedly.

Kratos frowned and took a dubious sidestep away from her. "What is this about?"

Sara had dashed back inside and returned with three cups of fresh water, which were handed to each of the soldiers and thankfully accepted. The leader downed his in one massive gulp before wiping his mouth and speaking. "A Church of Martel pilgrimage tour guide has been kidnapped by the Desians. In light of this, Dorr has decided that this is the time to gather Palmacosta's forces and launch an attack on the human ranch controlled by Magnius."

Genis exchanged a surprised glance with Lloyd. "Where do we come in?"

"We would like to ask you to rescue the kidnapped tour guide in concert with our attack."

Colette had a bad feeling about the answer, but asked anyway: "Who is the tour guide?"

The soldier passed the back of one hand across his dewy forehead. His stubbled face fell grim. "I believe you all know of her already. Her name is Chocolat."

Lloyd paled, his heart plummeting into his stomach. "Chocolat?!"

The Professor's exasperated frustration vanished instantly. "...Oh no."

"Chosen One." The soldier extended one giant, armored hand and just barely grasped Colette's with tender reverence. Hers looked like that of a tiny, frail doll, a speck of flesh lost in a sea of gleaming emerald metal and black leather. "Please help us."

She nodded resolutely and met Lloyd's gaze, a familiar, automatic glance that he returned with fervor. "Lloyd, let's help them."

"Yeah, of course!"

Raine allowed herself one last small sigh. "...Somehow, I thought you were going to say that."

"We can't just leave her." He shook his head of wispy chestnut hair. "No one deserves to be stuck in one of those ranches. I couldn't live with myself knowing I didn't at least try to help."

Sara was beside him, and she gave his shoulder an encouraging nudge with her own. "I like your style, kid." She met the soldier's gaze, tipping her mug in his direction. "We're with you."

"Thank you," the soldier breathed, and finally allowed himself to sit on one of the porch's benches. His armor scraped together unpleasantly. "Neil will inform you of the details once you reach the ranch. Thank you so much for your help."  
"So where's this ranch?" Genis asked.

His sister surreptitiously picked up her map from the ground and dusted it off. "Not far from here, towards the Eastern shore."

Collectively, they all began walking once more, with Raine in the lead. Sara was giving Kratos an amused, expectant smirk. "What, no pinpoint-accurate measurements this time?"

He stared back at her flatly. "Nine-point-three miles."

"Ahh, there it is." She sipped her coffee loudly. "The day just doesn't seem right unless it starts with your nuggets of wisdom. Thank you."

"My pleasure."

* * *

Three hours, a dozen monster battles, and just over six miles later, it was time for a break. Although one would have likely happened regardless of the group's consensus - Lloyd and Genis both were in foul moods. Every attempt at working together resulted in a slew of passive-aggressive, snide comments about nothing in particular, a bunch of general whining complaints that the rest of their companions took no pleasure in hearing. The group seemed to be standing on the edge of a bed of coals, one foot inching steadily towards their blistering surface.

When Lloyd had furiously and carelessly attempted to sheath his left sword a total of three times before success and Genis had somehow managed to transform his kendama into a useless clump of knots, Raine had had _enough_.  
"Alright!" Her shrill exclamation echoed through the trees. A couple of birds took off fearfully. Lloyd and Genis, who paused abruptly in their stride, wanted to do the same. "Out with it!"

Genis whipped around to face his sister, his small face flushed and fuming. "It's that Magnius guy!"

"Yeah," Lloyd agreed emphatically. He still had his right blade in his palm, and was glaring down at its shining surface with a furrowed brow and embroiled eyes. "He's… such a _barbarian_."

The Professor looked for a moment like she might begin another speech praising the teen's vocabulary usage, but instead she just nodded in agreement. "I couldn't have put it better myself. He's trying to rule everything through brute force and intimidation."

"The coward's way," Sara spat, idly inspecting her claws.

Lloyd thought of many things: gallows ropes, crooked necks, a young boy's far-too-old face as he accepted inevitable death. He remembered that boy's shoulders sliding down in resignation, and how their thin profile would have never had the chance to grow up broad and strong if Lloyd hadn't intervened. And now Magnius had gone and kidnapped their friend Chocolat, whose only crime was having a backbone and a sense of pride. Her mother Cacao, then, had been left alone… He winced at the thought of how sick with worry she must be.

He really shouldn't be thinking so hard. He knew it was bad for him and rarely ended well. But these thoughts were like a tornado, and whisked him away before he had a chance to stop them. It didn't help that his gut was urging him on, screaming for revenge and justice. The blade in his hand seemed to sing its agreement.

"That bastard… I'm going to make him pay."

Kratos' calm voice came like a blast of frigid wind: "Even that man is a living being. Defeating Magnius means taking a life."

Lloyd's sword sliced through the air as he turned to face the mercenary. "So, what, we should just stand by and let him take out his retribution on the people of Palmacosta?"

The absolute stillness and surety with which Kratos spoke made Lloyd uncomfortable. "No. What I'm saying is: to kill means to bear the responsibility for that life." Kratos paused. His eyes closed, which allowed Lloyd to remember to breathe. "...And you must never forget that."

Lloyd was not the only one affected. The rest of his group became thoughtfully silent, each member staring quietly at something, whether it was the ground, the azure sky, or anything in between.

Killing was a sadly normal part of this journey. By now, the lives of many monsters, Desians, and bandits had fallen victim to their collective purpose. It was easy to forget what that meant when it had become such a usual occurrence.

Lloyd honestly felt sick for a moment. But… that wouldn't do. He had goals to accomplish. He had friends to protect. The back of his left hand grew suddenly hot. He found himself nodding, almost as if his mother had really been there to agree with him.

His heart pounded solidly and with renewed purpose.

"...To bear the responsibility for a life…" He met Kratos' gaze. It was a bit easier this time. "...It seems I get excited a little too easily. I'll be careful."

There was a sharp _schring_ of a sword being drawn, and Lloyd barely had time to widen his eyes before Kratos' blade was aimed at his neck.

"Then put your energy to good use," Kratos said, though his mouth was hidden from Lloyd's line of sight by his muscular, bunched shoulder. All Lloyd could see of the older man's face was one piercing, gemlike eye between bangs of burgundy hair. "Let us train."

Lloyd drew his sword's twin and stood ready, and though it might not have been as seamless or cool as Kratos' display, he felt confident it was worthy of at least _some_ praise. He nodded resolutely, even though it brought his face closer to that cold, polished steel.

"How's that?" he asked, smiling.

"You're wide open."

That smile tumbled into a timid frown. "What?! How?"

Kratos lowered his blade just slightly. "Fighting with two swords deviates from the way in which swords were originally intended to be used. This increases your vulnerability."

"That's weird." Lloyd's eyes darted back and forth between his twin weapons. "If one sword has a power of 100, then using two will make it 200, right?"

The mercenary looked suddenly as if he were biting back a thousand words. "I have… heard you express a similar sentiment before. But… are you telling me this is the reason you have chosen to fight with two swords?"

"Yeah," came the factual, snarky reply. "So?"

Kratos' sword dropped until its tip brushed against the dirt. That intimidating expression was quickly replaced with one of dejection.

"Wh-what?" Lloyd growled. "Why do you look at me with pity?!"

"I'm sorry," Kratos sighed.

"I'll prove you wrong! Hi-yah!"

Pride flashed across the older man's impassive face. "Heh, that's the spirit."


	11. Intelligo (Understanding)

Chapter Eleven

 _Proditio_

* * *

 _Well it's all alright-_

 _I guess it's all alright_

 _I've got nothing left inside of my chest,_

 _But it's all alright_

* * *

The Chosen's delicate fingers poked through a thicket of brush. She narrowed one sapphire eye as she shoved a handful of branches out of her way. Through the leafy opening, she spotted a familiar figure: a young, nervous man with aquamarine hair. He was dipping behind the trunk of a large tree, and just managed to squirm away as a patrol of Desian soldiers passed through the clearing between them.

"There's Neil," she whispered.

Sara was beside her in an instant, her fiery hair flickering, her umber eyes narrowed in a predatory glare. Her claws curled, slicing through the bushes beside Colette's blunt fingertips. "Alright, let's go."

Colette's hand gently rested on her shoulder. "Um… wait, please. Those soldiers are passing… there's no need to fight unless we have to."

Sara's breath trailed off in a quiet growl. Colette's thin frame looked half her size as she knelt beside the Chosen, though she relented without hesitation and bowed her head respectfully. "...Okay. Just give me your signal. I'm yours."

Colette glanced at her, bewildered. Lloyd had always felt like her protector, a sort of comforting, guiding figure that she depended on without question. Kratos, however, was leagues above her golden head, almost on another plane of existence entirely - an unearthly alien filled with untouchable knowledge. Sara felt different, like some untamed wild creature only Colette could command.

She honestly… kind of liked it.

"...Alright," Colette murmured. "They're gone now. Um… let's go."

Sara smiled. "Done."

In a lunge, she burst through the bushes, carving a hole behind her for the others to follow. Crouched low, Sara paused for a moment as she scanned the area top to bottom - though it passed her test quickly. She motioned swiftly for the others to follow, and then they were sliding forward in a stealthy chain across the trail, one by one.

Neil backed up a few steps to allow the Chosen room beside him. His soft blue eyes were wide with surprise and worry. "Chosen One… I am so glad you've come."

Lloyd glanced over one shoulder and at the ranch's front doors, ominous and tall like the gates of hell. "We've heard Chocolat's been kidnapped!"

Neil's mouth went instantly dry. His already-pale skin took on an unnatural, grey-green hue. The

Chosen herself and her companions were all staring at him expectantly, and he swallowed thickly. "...Yes. I wish to speak with you regarding that." He halfway stood in the brush and began moving east through the forest, though his gaze remained trained on the empty trail beside them. "Please, come this way."

He led them through a small tunnel of branches and into a rocky clearing, beset on all sides by nature-made stone walls. For the moment, everyone seemed at ease, those steady footsteps of Desian patrols now safely in the distance.

The Professor broke the suffocating silence first. "...It doesn't sound like you have very good news for us."

Neil released a long and burdened sigh. "You all are… better off just leaving the Palmacosta region."

Colette shook her head. "But if we do that, what will happen to Chocolat?"

"Yeah," Genis added emphatically. "We're supposed to work with the Palmacosta army to save Chocolat, right?"

Perspiration beaded on Neil's brow. He lifted a handkerchief from his back pocket and dabbed at his forehead. "No. No, that's…"

"So, it _is_ a trap." The only surprise evident in Kratos' features was a slight narrowing of his cinnamon eyes.

Neil appeared within mere seconds of syncope.

"Of the several possibilities," Raine sighed tiredly, "it looks like the worst one came true."

Lloyd's head hurt. He looked back and forth between the Professor and the mercenary. "What are you guys talking about? A trap?"

Kratos nodded just after Neil. "It was a mystery that the Desians would simply leave a city with an army alone."

"Yes, exactly," Raine said. "Choosing not to crush the seeds of rebellion must mean they are not a threat… Or, perhaps, because they are in fact beneficial."

"It is as you say," Neil muttered. "Dorr is working with the Desians to lead the Chosen into a trap."

"Dorr?" Sara echoed, her shoulders slumping. "Why would he do that?"

Neil seemed to crumple. There was a tree behind him, and he sagged against it for support. "He didn't used to be like this… He always thought of the well-being of the city's people. Even five years ago, when he lost his wife, Clara, he continued to fight the Desians."

"Then why…" Colette trailed off, her voice wavering.

"I don't know for sure," Neil admitted. His head raised, and he peered over the thicket of branches and towards the looming ranch. "At any rate, entering the ranch now will surely put the Chosen in danger. Leave Chocolat to me and please, go on your way." He met Colette's wide eyes and tried to smile. "Please regenerate the world as soon as possible."

"Indeed," Kratos agreed without hesitation. "It would be best to abandon the situation here for world regeneration."

"No!" The Chosen's small voice burst forth unexpectedly. "I can't just ignore this!"

"Colette's right!" Genis agreed. "If we leave things are they are now, Palmacosta may be destroyed just like Iselia!"

Raine met her brother's gaze evenly. "Yes, what you say is true. But I still wish to side with Kratos. If you don't want to see cities destroyed, you should avoid contact with the Desians."

Sara scowled. "...Otherwise known as 'burying your head in the sand.'"

The two women exchanged a terse glare, but Colette spoke up before either one of them could retort.

"Regenerating the world and saving the people in front of us are not exclusive of each other," she said, her back straightening in a rare display of confidence. "That's what I think."

"If that is how you feel, Colette," Raine began softly, "then we do not have any right to stop you. The only one who has the right to make any decisions on this journey is you." Her eyes shifted to Lloyd, who was staring quietly down at his feet. "Is that alright with you, Lloyd?"

"That was my intention from the beginning," he said bitterly. His left hand curled into a fist, the gem on its back flashing its support. "Remember what I said? I'm going to destroy them all. And we can't just sit back and let Chocolat rot in that ranch." He released a rough breath. "What are those ranches even _used_ for? We don't even know what kinds of things they're putting her through!"

Sara's freckled face fell in shock for a moment, though it was quickly lost in a pained, distracted frown. A torrent of words seemed perched on the tip of her tongue, but she turned away, her clawed fingers fidgeting in discomfited twitches.

The Professor noticed this briefly, but said nothing, and instead nodded to Lloyd and Colette. "Now that that's decided, we have two courses to choose from. The first is to go ahead and infiltrate this ranch - though this carries the risk of entering unprepared and getting in over our heads. The second is to confirm Dorr's true motives. If he has planned a trap, then he knows the layout of the ranch well." Her slender face hardened. The sun peeked out from behind a gathering of clouds, making her silvery hair shine and her slate-blue eyes gleam dangerously. "...Let's let him talk for a bit."

Neil paled again. "Wh-what are you going to do to Dorr?"

"...You'd better not ask that," Genis mumbled cynically. "Raine's punishment is painful…"

"Thinking logically," Kratos cut in, "dealing with Dorr first is the correct choice."

Colette's hands wrung together. "What do you think, Lloyd?"

His gut was loud and insistent as usual. He stared at the Chosen, her long hair swishing softly, her big eyes trusting and hopeful. The ranch's front gates seemed to draw him in, but he shoved the urge back. As much as he'd learned on this journey, and as hard as he would always try, there was never a guarantee of success. And he couldn't ever live with himself if something were to happen to her, or any of his friends, due to yet another of his too-rash decisions.

Lloyd sighed, nodding in resolution. "Let's return to Palmacosta. We'll hear what Dorr has to say first." Genis and Sara nodded too.

Colette seemed relieved, though worry was still evident in her pale features. "But let's save Chocolat as soon as we can. I'm sure she's scared and lonely by herself."

"My," Raine began, smirking proudly. "Even Lloyd makes rational decisions sometimes." He stuck his tongue out at her in retribution.

"So it seems," Kratos rumbled. "Well, then… let's go."

The group turned to leave, once more trekking through the brush and towards the waiting dirt trail.

"What should I do?" Neil called after them, grimacing.

Lloyd glanced back at him over one shoulder. "Stay here. We're going to put the squeeze on your commander. ...It's better if you don't see it."

* * *

They took the southern road this time, along the coast and back towards the city. The monsters here were different - varying types of sea-creatures, from oversized starfish to strange sharks that managed to slither along the sand like toothy, mutated snakes. But the sight of beaches and the feel of the ocean's breeze were a nice change from the seemingly neverending thickets of forest.

Though their collective mood was rather somber, Raine, Colette, Genis and Lloyd had managed to return to somewhat normal conversation. The weather was perfect, too, which had helped brighten their spirits a bit. Sara, however, still hadn't spoken. She seemed disinterested in human contact entirely. Her legs continued to listlessly move her forward, but her mind remained somewhere far away.

Kratos walked behind her silently. He thought briefly of speaking to her, but quickly reconsidered, figuring instead that she would return to the present only when ready.

And he was right.

Her steps faltered and paused for only a moment, but that was enough - and then he was walking beside her. She muttered his name in a quiet question, her eyes still trained on the ground.

"Yes?" he answered.

"They… they don't know, do they?"

His eyes narrowed. "Know what?"

"What the human ranches are for." She swallowed hard, like the words were making her sick. "What… what human Exspheres really are. They have an idea, but… they don't know the whole truth."

...This explained a lot.

Those odd comments she made concerning Exspheres and her past. The strange amount of knowledge and understanding she seemed to have of the Desians… she knew more than the others, somehow. He had a feeling he was about to find out why.

"No. They… do not," he managed, after several seconds. She still wouldn't look at him, though he studied her serious face intently. "You have known for a while, haven't you?"

"Yeah." Her raspy voice was low, barely above a whisper. "I've known for a long time. I… I lost someone to an Exsphere years ago."

Kratos was unsure of exactly what he felt now. Surprise was there somewhere, as was compassion, and… a rather foreign, unexpected sense of empathy. "...I see"

"I… wasn't there at the end," she continued, as if the truth were unstoppable now that it had been unleashed. "I didn't see it happen, but… I knew enough."

He found himself asking before he had the chance to think better of it. "Who was it?"

Her silence returned. That smoky darkness crawled back into her eyes like it had several nights ago in his room at the Skipper's Haven. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line, almost in a sense of restraint, like some loud, exhausting argument was taking place in her head.

"...That was a careless question," he muttered gently. "Forgive me."

"No, it's okay." One of her hands curled into a soft fist that she held over her chest. The gesture looked like an offering to her heart, a tired apology for making it ache with a familiar hurt.

"It was my sister. We were… really close."

He let out a long, slow breath that he hadn't quite realized he'd been holding. The others were chattering ahead of them, and the ocean's steady roar was not far, though he heard none of it.

"I am sorry, Sara." Kratos paused. He felt suddenly as if he were balancing on the edge of a knife, or standing before a forked path. He had only two options, now - the first was to remain anonymous and offer sympathy from afar.

The second was unfamiliar, uncomfortable honesty. Honesty he had never expressed to anyone. Honesty that, as time went on, began to feel utterly necessary.

"...I understand," he decided.

Her breath hitched. "You… do?"

That sword and those broad shoulders no longer mattered. His stoic, angled face was now unnervingly transparent. He looked haunted, and plagued by some harrowing shadow that she innately understood.

"Kratos… You don't have to say-"

"My wife," he blurted, like he couldn't hold it on his tongue any longer. "...Many years ago."

 _Wife_? Did he say…

Sara stopped mid-stride.

What the hell had she been _doing_? Just… _What_?

Oh, gods, everything made so much _sense_ now. Her stomach wrung itself into nauseating knots. Sara felt like she was falling, flailing helplessly down an endless, dank pit. His attitude, his desire to be alone… He was a _widower_. And here, she'd been stupidly attempting all this time to forge a friendship that he likely had no interest in, and furthermore probably resented, because…

She wanted to throw up. She wanted to run away and never come back. Okay, maybe throw up _after_ running away, to at least maintain a shred of dignity.

"Oh, Kratos…" Her hands covered her mouth. "I'm so sorry…" For so, so many reasons.

"It's alright," he said calmly.

No, no it most certainly was _not_. He kept trying to meet her eyes, but she would have none of it. The others continued ahead, growing smaller in the distance, but she couldn't find her feet to follow them.

Kratos waited for her. While admittedly he was not the best at reading a woman's emotions, he realized that the look on her face was not one of mere shock - but guilt, wrapped in a fine layer of shame. It startled him. The honesty he'd offered was not supposed to result in _this_. He understood, really - but if anything, he'd wanted to take a risk and gain from it something positive, not something like this.

"Sara. Look at me."

Her hands dropped from her face. She forced a great, steadying breath into her lungs, then turned her gaze to him at last.

He took one deliberate step closer to her. "It's _alright_."

She blinked. Her eyes searched his, as hesitant as they were desperate. "Are… you sure?"

"Yes." Everything about him softened and seemed to melt for a fleeting moment - his voice, his face, the mere way he felt as he stood beside her.

"...Don't change," he added quietly.

There were a billion things she wanted to say, and to ask, and to confirm, and… she ignored them all.

If he was really saying this, she was going to listen and respect it. This was _his_ call. Her eyes were still

glued to his when she nodded adamantly.

"Okay, then. ...Okay." Her back straightened. She began walking once more with determined, purposeful strides, motioning for him to follow. "Let's stop this, Kratos. The Desians, the Exspheres. It… it has to stop."

"Yes," he agreed softly. "It does."

He returned her nod, watching the flicker of her fiery hair in the sea breeze. A strange, welcome solace washed over him. Her renewed vigor was contagious, and he fell into step along with her.

One edge of his mouth twitched into a small smile. Sara smiled back.

"I've been meaning to tell you," Kratos began slowly, and then realized in an instant how remarkably petrifying and open-ended that statement was. He cleared his throat and continued quickly. "...That your skill with your flames has improved."

She barked a laugh. "You think?"

"Well… most of our enemies lately have been of the water element, so fire attacks are rather useless," he continued, giving her a halfhearted frown of disapproval. "But regardless, your training shows."

"Why do you think I practice on water-elementals?" She glared at him expectantly. "It lets me use twice as many attacks before they're knocked out. So twice the training. Duh."

"Ever the strategist," he murmured sardonically.

"Hey, someone has to be. And it sure as hell isn't you."

"...Humph."

* * *

The Governor-General's office stood unguarded. That pair of giant armored soldiers was nowhere to be seen, which actually made Lloyd even more unsettled than if everything had been the same as before. Though Palmacosta's main plaza was thriving as usual beneath the midday sun, he was on edge. Each step closer to the office's giant front doors took an overwhelming amount of effort and concentration.

Lloyd touched the door's wooden surface with one outstretched palm. His fingers splayed against it slowly, and he held his breath as he turned to glance back at his friends. They gave him a collective nod of affirmation.

In one quick shove, the door was open. He dashed inside, hands on his swords, ready to throw down - but the room was empty. The breath left his lungs in an anticlimactic rush. He was just about to speak, but Colette was holding up one small hand, her golden head tilted in the direction of the staircase to their right.

"I think I hear voices from below," she murmured.

"Really?" Lloyd listened for a few seconds, then shrugged. "I don't hear anything."

Kratos had already given the entire office a scrutinizing garnet-eyed sweep. "There's no one here." He made his way towards the staircase. "We should head down to the basement."

They all followed him silently. The stairs led to a cement cellar, and its cold, barren walls amplified the sudden sound of a pair of voices. Kratos immediately raised one hand, motioning for the others to hold. He continued down alone, his shoulders hunched, fingers gripping the hilt of his blade.

When he reached the last step, he signaled for everyone to follow. There was a dividing wall, along which was stacked an assortment of barrels and boxes for storage. He pressed his back against it. Lloyd slid up next to him, and they both peeked around the corner.

Dorr was standing in the far corner. His daughter, Kilia, was leaning back against the wall, watching him with wide, curious eyes. Beside him was a Desian, in full gear and holding a sword in one hand; they seemed to be in the middle of a conversation.

"When will my wife…" Dorr paused and swallowed hard. His bearded face was ancient and full of worry. "When will Clara return to her original form?"

"Not yet," the Desian soldier said distastefully. The tip of his sword tapped impatiently against the floor, creating a rhythmic, maddening echo. "You still haven't paid us enough gald. You've been paying us less and less… did you think we wouldn't notice?"

Dorr's face fell. "This is the best I can do! The tolls, the municipal taxes, the offerings to the Church of Martel… there's nowhere left to squeeze money from!"

A small canvas bag sat on the floor between them, and the Desian shoved at it with one boot. "Well, I suppose this will do… for _today_. I'm sure Lord Magnius will remove the demon seed depending on your next contribution." With that, he picked up the bag, hefted it into one arm, and strode out the back exit. Dorr flinched as it slammed shut.

Kilia's young face pulled into a discomfited frown. "Father…"

Dorr absently placed one hand on her head. He didn't look at her, but it seemed to be less because he didn't want to and more because he simply couldn't. "Just a little while longer. Just a little more, a-and Clara will be back to normal." He tried to smile as his hand cupped the girl's small cheek. "I'll raise fees on the pilgrimages, and-"

Lloyd couldn't take anymore. He lurched forward, leaping around the corner, and met Dorr's surprised gaze with one of furious resentment. "What's the meaning of this?!"

Dorr's eyes were huge. His throat worked, and he opened and closed his mouth several times, although no sound came out.

"What's the matter?" Lloyd asked, sneering. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

Genis rolled his eyes. "Uh, Lloyd, that's a really cliched line…"

"Shut up, Genis!"

"W-what are you doing here?" Dorr stammered, stepping back. "Neil! Where's Neil?"

"I'm afraid Neil's not here," Raine said coldly.

Dorr breathed a growling sigh. "So, Neil's betrayed me…"

"What's wrong with your wife?" Lloyd asked. "Has she been taken hostage or something?"

"Hostage?" The Governor-General scoffed bitterly and shook his head. "...Don't make me laugh. If you want to see my wife…" He turned to a large square object in the back corner. It looked to be a cage, the front of which was covered with a long brown tarp. "She's right _here_!" And he ripped the tarp off.

What stood in the cage was an abomination, an utter mockery of human life. It was tall - eight feet at least - and had no face, save for a trio of glowing, pupilless eyes protruding from the middle of its hairless head. Its skin was mottled, and colored with long streaks of cyanotic blue and dark, bruised purple. Long, crooked arms hung all the way to the floor, where its curled fingers scraped along the cement beside its bare clawed feet.

It looked... just like Marble.

Most disturbingly, though, was how it still wore an attractive teal tunic and coordinated white skirt, both of which were inlaid with feminine gold accents. The edges were ripped and frayed where all of that bumpy skin and knotted muscle had formed and burst out of its joints. Its head tossed back and forth. Somehow, though it had no mouth, it kept crying out with low, haunting sounds.

Kratos was first to react - he breathed a sharp, stunned gasp, mouth falling open, face paling. Genis recoiled, stumbling backwards and nearly tripping over his own feet, while his sister, Lloyd, and Sara all looked on in disbelief. Colette, however, simply appeared very, very sad.

"Wh...what's that monster?!" Genis managed.

"Is…" Sara's voice was shaking. "Is that what she…"

The Chosen shook her head, her eyes shining with tears. "She's crying… she's crying out in pain. You mustn't call her a monster…"

Lloyd wanted to look at Colette but couldn't avert his gaze. "You don't mean…"

"That's right," Dorr hissed. "This is what's become of my wife, Clara!"

Raine forced her voice to return. "So that's why you told everyone she passed away."

"My father, the previous Governor-General, was a fool," Dorr began angrily. "Because of his defiant stance against the Desians, they killed him… and planted the demon seed in my wife as a warning. If I cooperate with them, they will give me the medicine to save her."

"But that means you're betraying the people in this city!" Genis protested.

"What do I care," Dorr muttered, turning away from what what remained of his wife. "We'll never escape the rule of the Desians anyway."

Lloyd's heart caught fire. He stepped forward proudly, slicing one arm through the air. "Colette will… the Chosen will save the world!" The blonde girl beside him wiped her eyes and nodded emphatically.

Dorr looked back and forth between them, scowling. "The Chosen's journey of world regeneration is not absolute. Don't forget that the last one ended in failure. Besides, the people of this city are satisfied with my way." Half of his mouth curled into a smug smirk. "They just don't know I'm working for the Desians."

" _Shut up_!" Lloyd shouted, his umber eyes wild and fierce. "What do you mean your 'way'? You act like you're proud of hurting all those innocent people!"

"What choice do I have?" Dorr countered through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry about your wife," Lloyd continued, his left hand crunching into a fist. "But think about all those people who believed in you just to be sent off to the ranch! Any of them might have ended up just like your wife!"

"Tony," Sara said slowly, realization dawning on her freckled face. Her claws shot out. The rest of her words left her mouth as more of a snarl than a sentence. "That beautiful little boy's father. _You_ sent him there, and left Tony with _nothing_!"

"Silence!" Dorr growled. "Stop acting like your justice is absolute!"

"Where do you get off?" Lloyd countered lividly. The Exsphere on his hand was illuminated now, gleaming its silent support. "Don't even start spewing the word 'justice'! I _hate_ that word! If you wanted to save your wife, you should have resigned your position as Governor-General and searched for a cure, or help, or _whatever!_ You're a worthless _jerk_ who couldn't give up his social status, even for his own wife!"

"Lloyd, please stop!"

Every eye in the room went to the Chosen. She was shaking her head, her blonde hair flying side to side, her trembling hands held beneath her chin.

"Not everyone's strong enough to stand up against the Desians. Please, stop this!"

Lloyd's breath caught. He blinked at her, astonished. "C-Colette…"

"What if we go and get the medicine you mentioned?" she asked Dorr. Her voice was clear and dulcet, full of hope. "Then you wouldn't have to side with the Desians anymore."

Dorr sagged back against the colorless concrete wall. "You… forgive me for what I've done, Chosen?"

"It's not my place to forgive you. That's up to the people of this city. But I know Martel will forgive you." She met the Governor-General's bewildered gaze with a graceful, kind smile. "The Goddess is always within you, awaiting your own, personal regeneration."

Dorr's mouth seemed suddenly dry. "Within… me?"

"...Absurd," came a small, miniscule voice.

Kilia, all soft velvet dress and rosy cheeks, suddenly stepped away from the back wall. Her bright flaxen pigtails bounced merrily - although there was something about her face that seemed off, and full of an unsettling, mature surety that did not belong.

One of her small arms shifted just slightly. She had something tucked into the back of her skirt - and as her little hand returned forward, in its grasp was… a knife?

Dorr looked confused. That voice had come from his daughter, yet sounded nothing like her. He turned to ask her what was wrong - but for some reason, his legs didn't seem to be working. His knees weakened, and he crumpled to the floor, barely managing to catch himself with outstretched hands.

He took in a trembling breath. Something wet and tangy was inexplicably coating his tongue. When he exhaled, it was rough, and ended in a cough - and that was when he first noticed the splatter of red droplets that landed on the pale floor. Blood. _His_ blood…

When the blade of her knife was no longer visible outside of Dorr's thoracic spine, Kilia grinned. "The Goddess Martel would never lend her aid to an inferior human being."

Lloyd was completely unable to process what he'd just seen. Adults killing other adults was one thing. But… a young, innocent girl that… that did…

"What are you doing?!" he blurted.

Genis was in a similar state of disbelief. "H-How could you… do that to your own father?"

"That's a laugh," was her arrogant, snide answer. The only thing that remained of Kilia's features was

that creepy sneer - the rest of her body began to shift and shudder. Her arms stretched, her legs vaulted upward - she gained three feet of height in a manner of seconds. Those curly pigtails solidified into a pair of twisting, devilish horns, and her skin smudged over with a shade of grape-purple. Fleshy, blunt fingertips became lanky talons that twitched eagerly.

Kilia - or whatever she was now - straightened her bony spine and took a confident step forward. Those talons on her feet carved little holes into the floor. "I am a servant of Pronyma - leader of the Five Grand Cardinals. I was merely assigned to observe the new human cultivation technique developed by Magnius." She laughed - it was a hollow, icy sound, as dead as it was melodic. "There's no way a superior half-elf such as I could have a fool of a father like _this._ "

Colette watched, seemingly paralyzed, as whatever-Kilia shoved her clawed foot cruelly into Dorr's side. "A… fool of a father?"

"Just look at him," Kilia continued mockingly. "He didn't even notice that his own daughter was dead… because he was too busy chasing after medicine that doesn't exist, just to save his _monster_ wife!"

" _Nope!_ " Sara shouted, shaking her head, tilting her chin, flexing her claws. "I don't know what the hell you are, demon-thing, but you're _dead_!"

The sound of Lloyd's blades appearing echoed with that of Kratos' sword. Raine and Genis drifted back, while Colette took up a temporary position on the frontlines due to their limited space, her ethereal wings escaping from her shoulders once more.

Kilia threw her bald, horned head back and cackled. She stuck one skeletal hand out towards them and motioned them forward with a skinny finger. "Please, by all means… just try it!"

"Done!' Lloyd shouted, and lunged forward.

She turned out to be a formidable foe, capable of using a number of incapacitating dark-elemental spells. The Chosen, with her angelic powers, and Raine's holy spells did most of the damage, while Lloyd, Kratos and Sara served to keep the demon distracted in order to give them time. Halfway through the fight, and just when it looked like they were about to gain the upper hand - a long, slender array of bony spines exploded from Kilia's back and ribs, arcing forward over her head and jabbing out in repeated, deadly strikes. "Be careful," Kratos advised - for once, Lloyd and Sara agreed without question.

It was actually Genis who delivered the final blow - with the command of " _Stalagmite!",_ his kendama called the ground itself to split open like a great, dark mouth with jagged concrete teeth. From it jutted a spire of rock, an eruption of deep earth that crashed into Kilia's weakened body and sent her skidding across the floor.

She came to a stop just before the cage, where Dorr's monstrous wife stood silently, her featureless face watching in morbid, lifeless interest.

"Is everyone alright?" Raine asked sincerely, glancing around at her companions with clinical intensity. Kratos seemed fine, unsurprisingly. Colette and Genis, neither of whom had any direct contact with the demon, were untouched, though exhausted and rather drained of mana. As Lloyd caught his breath and sheathed his twin blades, he suddenly noticed a sharp pain in his left shoulder, and looked down at it curiously. There was a hole in his longsleeved red top about the size of a gald piece - undoubtedly from one of those pointy spines.

"Heh," Sara huffed. She was clutching at a similar injury on her own shoulder. She met Lloyd's gaze and smiled cynically. "We're twins."

Before Lloyd could say anything, he felt a familiar, protective warmth flow through his chest and settle in his shoulder. The Professor's staff was lit up again, and it only took a matter of seconds for that hole punched into his flesh to stitch itself up, leaving no trace at all of its existence save for the gap in his shirt.

Kratos took it upon himself to heal Sara - he stood close behind her, near to touching, and she was watching him over one shoulder as his sword glowed briefly with pure white light. She closed her eyes, breathing out slowly as her wound vanished. Her face was a bit peculiar - she looked rather intense, as if the feel of Kratos' magic was overwhelming, or difficult to handle. The mercenary maintained his default expression, though what was visible of his garnet eyes stayed focused intently on Sara - although perhaps this was just his way of concentrating. Lloyd found this strange - but there was no time to think on it anymore, because Kilia had begun to crawl across the concrete and towards Clara's cell.

"Th-this can't be," she stammered roughly. Oily, obsidian blood trailed behind her as she forced herself forward. "Fine, then. I'll set this monster free and let _it_ kill you!" With the last of her strength, she swiped at the lock on Clara's cage and broke it off. It clattered to the floor beside her bony hand, which twitched for the last time.

What was once Dorr's wife shoved instantly at the door, flinging it open with one gangly, heavy arm. Its steps on the ground were like creeping thunder. It headed, for whatever reason, straight for Lloyd, whose face fell into a burdened grimace.

His insides froze over. He felt sick. He shook his head slowly, hoping for one beautiful second that this was a nightmare, and he would wake up far away at any moment.

"No… no, not again…"

As Clara stepped closer, he really wanted to back up and turn away - but he forced himself still. He remembered Marble. Her kind words goodbye echoed in his memory, though they were strained and distorted and full of pain. His head shook faster. "Do I have to kill another innocent victim?"

Colette was suddenly in front him. Her glassy wings were flared and incandescent, shining with all the hues of a perfect sunrise. She looked so tiny, like a child standing fearlessly before the vast expanse of a dark mountain. Clara kept coming, now clearly within arms' reach - but the Chosen held out one hand, palm-out before her chest.

"Stop," she commanded gently.

Clara obeyed.

Colette's hand did not waver. She stared up at the creature's mutated face with earnest eyes, almost as if they were exchanging some unheard dialogue. Lloyd held his breath. Behind him, his friends were doing the same.

It could only have been a few seconds - but it felt like eternity before Clara turned away. Her great clawed feet moved in uncoordinated shuffles towards the back door. The same arm that opened her cage now did the same for this exit, and then she was gone, vanishing into the twilight.

"W...wait!" Genis managed, but it was no use. There was a collective hesitance, a silence as they all processed what had just happened - until they heard a wheezing, struggling cough from where Dorr still lay on the floor.

Dorr. He was still alive?

The Governor-General somehow turned onto his side to face them. His eyes were heavy and half-lidded as he stared up at their faces, now hovering around him with varying expressions of concern. He was very pale. His lips had begun to tinge with a greyish blue.

"...Is Kilia safe?" he whispered.

Genis's mouth felt like it was full of cotton. "Kilia is…"

Lloyd's hand went to his friend's shoulder, and it squeezed once before letting go. "Don't worry," Lloyd said with a small, reassuring smile. "It seems your real daughter is fine."

"But Lloyd…"

Dorr coughed, barely managing to cover his mouth with one hand. When he lowered it again, his fingers were speckled with blood. "I see." His eyes raised to Lloyd's and held there steadily. "You… your name's Lloyd?"

He nodded. His heart was flailing, bursting with panic, but he kept smiling. "Yeah. That's me."

Colette gripped Raine's sleeve. "Professor Sage, please help him…"

Raine nodded. She stepped forward and lowered onto one knee. Her staff was held out in front of her once more, and her indigo eyes narrowed in concentration.

But nothing was happening. Dorr gained no color, and that pool of blood beneath his shoulders oozed steadily larger. She released a rough breath and tried again. Dorr's head sagged onto his arm, as if in resignation.

Finally, she stood. Her graceful face was a fragile mask that looked to shatter at any moment. She turned her back to them, and her silver head shook dejectedly from side to side.

"Please," Dorr began, finding his voice once more. "Please save Chocolat. That poor girl… She was just used as a tool to lure you out."

Lloyd was nodding as Dorr fished something out of the pocket of his bloodstained robes. It was a small plastic card, inlaid with a maze of metal stripes. It looked valuable, and Lloyd took it without question.

"The passcode… is 3341," Dorr said.

Lloyd nodded again. "Got it."

"And I know… this is a selfish request…" The door to Clara's cage hung open, and the Governor-General peered up at it sadly. "But if you somehow find a way to save my wife… please help her." His features softened, those pained lines in his cheeks and forehead smoothing over in a warm smile. "When my daughter comes back… I don't want her to be all alone."

"Okay," Lloyd heard himself say. "I promise."

Dorr's last breath eased between his lips. With it, he mouthed the words "thank you."

When his eyes closed, he was still smiling.

Lloyd was not new to death. By now, though not at all by choice, he'd seen it plenty of times. But this was different. This was really, really hard. He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry, or punch something, or run away, or…

"Let's get going," Kratos said cooly.

The teen whipped around, his chestnut hair swaying, his matching eyes wide with disbelief. "Kratos! How can you just say that?!"

He met Lloyd's glare evenly. "Settle down, Lloyd. What is it that we must do now?"

It was Raine that responded, though her stare remained on the far wall, and her tone sounded almost robotic. "...Rescue Chocolat. Then defeat Magnius, the leader of this region."

Kratos nodded. "Exactly."

A stillness settled over Lloyd's raging thoughts, like snow on a quiet hill. He looked at the mercenary, ever the bastion of logical thinking and general coolness, and breathed an involuntary sigh. "...Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry."

Genis was beside him, and nodding resolutely. "Let's go, Lloyd. Let's defeat the Desians."

The brown tarp that used to cover Clara's cell now laid in a crumpled ball on the floor. Silently, Sara picked it up. Its rustling was the only sound in the cold room. Lloyd watched as she unfurled it in the air, and slowly lowered it over Dorr's body.

Raine was watching too. Almost like blood on her tongue, she tasted the sharp, unfamiliar, sickening bite of failure. "...My healing artes cannot even save one single life?..."

Colette glanced at her. "Professor Sage? Did you say something?"

Raine cleared her throat. "...No. It's nothing."

"Palmacosta should know," Sara began quietly, "that their beloved Governor-General was murdered."

"But, he-"

"Was a _hero_ ," Sara cut Genis off sternly. "Destroying his reputation won't help anything."

"Yeah," Lloyd agreed. That lumpy shape beneath the tarp refused to let go of his attention. "If anything, it will just give them a good reason to fight back."

"Is that truly what you want?" Kratos asked. His eyes slid between Lloyd and Sara. "More fighting?"

"How else does change ever happen?" Sara countered earnestly. "Fighting for what you want is the _only_ way to make a difference. Why should we take that away from the people of Palmacosta?"

For a moment, Lloyd and Sara seemed to be the same person, embodying the same indestructible, fiery will, and with the same look of resolution on both their faces.

Kratos sighed and turned away. After a few moments, he nodded. The back door was beside him, and he opened it quickly.

"...Do as you wish."

* * *

A/N: Lyrics at the beginning are "All Alright" by Fun.  
A lot of this fic was massively inspired by music and I like to dedicate certain chapters to songs I kept on repeat while writing them.  
And seriously, thank you for reading!


	12. Beneficium (Favor)

Chapter Twelve

 _Beneficium_

* * *

"Why did you lie to Dorr?"

Colette's question came out of nowhere, and honestly caught Lloyd off guard. She'd been silent for most of the time since they'd left Palmacosta. Her face was oddly tense and sincere; it seemed that whether or not she'd wanted them to, the words had torn themselves from her mouth.

Lloyd sighed. The brick that had settled into his stomach was still there and still aching. "I guess I felt sorry for him. I couldn't tell somebody about to die that his daughter was no longer alive, you know?"

The Chosen responded with an understanding nod, though her gaze dropped down to her boots as she walked. "...Yes. I know what you mean. But I wonder if… maybe he realized it anyway."

"What?" Lloyd's heart sank. "Then why would he ask me?"

Colette's small voice was feather-soft. "I think, maybe… because he's a father."

"A father…" Lloyd echoed, fighting off a familiar, lonely emptiness.

"There's no parent that doesn't wish for the well-being of their children."

He sighed, and glanced down at his hand. "I wonder if my parents were the same way…"

"We do not know anything about Dorr, really," Kratos offered suddenly. Though he'd been walking behind them, it was clear he'd heard at least part of their conversation. His eyes were thinned thoughtfully as he looked down at Lloyd with a calm, calculating interest. "It's best not to assume any of his motivations."

"He was still a parent, right? Regardless of anything?" Lloyd countered. "That isn't up for debate. And it… must have been hard for him to see his wife like that."

Kratos said nothing. His steps remained smooth and even as he continued forward.

Lloyd didn't say anything either. He thought of many things - his own mother, who he knew so little of, but always felt loved by somehow. Though she'd only ever been in his memory as a gravestone, she was always there for him, and there was no better listener. He thought of Dirk, and the dwarf's unique brand of gruff kindness, which, now that he wasn't around all the time, he kind of missed.

He thought of his biological father, too. Wherever and whoever it was. Was he tall? Strong? Brave? Would they even get along? Maybe he was a jerk. Or maybe a kind warrior, or a brilliant scholar. Was he even _alive_? Lloyd hoped so. Maybe they'd even meet someday…

He smiled a little, and that darkness in his eyes cleared. "A parent's love for a child is amazing, isn't it?"

Kratos nodded, though it looked a bit difficult for him to do so. "...So it would seem."

Lloyd was too caught up in his own thoughts to really notice this. "I wonder if… Mom died protecting me from Desians."

"You don't have any memory of when your mother died?"

"I was only three. I hardly remember anything."

"I see," Kratos murmured. A peculiar, flickering shadow touched his cinnamon eyes just before he closed them. He inhaled slowly, his broad shoulders pulling apart and straightening as he did so. "...Then the only thing you can do is live her share as well."

* * *

The Chosen's group made it halfway back to the Palmacosta Human Ranch before nightfall came. A clearing beneath a shady thicket of trees served as their resting place for the night. Raine had made dinner for them all; while she wasn't known as the group's most skilled cook, it was hard to screw up a sandwich, which is what she'd fashioned out of some dried meats, cheeses, and old bread that was about to become inedible. Sort of a leftover pot luck to clear out their stash - Raine's specialty.

Lloyd wasn't hungry. His sandwich sat half-eaten on its napkin, which rested on the log beside him. The campfire held his stare. Its soft swaying was hypnotic, and the longer he looked at it, the less he had to think. And literally anything was a welcome alternative to thinking right now. Even math, really. He'd gladly crack open his old Iselia school workbook, as long as it distracted him somehow.

Colette was on the edge of camp several meters away, and Genis and his sister sat beside her, speaking softly. From what he heard of their conversation, they were discussing the remaining seals, and what the journey's next step would need to be. Kratos still hadn't sat down, even though they'd been set up around the fire for several hours now, and was keeping an ever vigilant eye on the leafy, verdant distance. Lloyd had a strange feeling that the mercenary was using vigilance the same way that Lloyd was using the fire, though.

They'd dragged an old log around the campfire, and Lloyd was sitting on one side. It shifted suddenly beneath him, plucking up into the air and jarring him out of his head. He turned to see Sara sitting across from him. She was removing the crust from her sandwich - but not to discard it. She kept taking bites as she did so, almost as if it were the best part.

He had just started to think of how weird that was before he found himself speaking: "Do you think I did the right thing?"

She glanced at him, a bit startled, then smiled warmly. "Generally my answer for you would always be yes, Lloyd, but… when are we talking about?"

"I made Dorr believe his daughter was okay when she… wasn't." He frowned down at his sandwich. "I lied to him…"

Her fingers drummed against the log for a few moments before she spoke. "How do _you_ feel about it, Lloyd?"

How did… huh. He wasn't really used to getting asked that question. His feelings tended to pop out first, before anyone got the chance. But… this time was a bit different. He guessed that was a good indication of how much today had really affected him.

"...I always thought that saying the truth was the best way to handle things." His frown deepened. He kept seeing Dorr's hopeful, morbid smile. "But… I couldn't make myself do it."

She shook her head. The log bounced once more as she scooted closer to him. "What you did was kind, whether or not it was true. Sometimes… kindness is more valuable than the truth."

His face tensed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Because of what you said, his last thoughts on this earth were good ones of his daughter." Her smile widened. "That… is worth something."

Dirk popped back into his head, reciting his favorite Dwarven Vow, #11: _Lying is the first step down the path of thievery…_ "You don't think it makes me… weak?"

"No," she said unsparingly. When he finally peered up at her, she refused to look away from his eyes. It was a bit weird, but at least he knew she was sincere.

"Just the opposite, Lloyd. Kindness takes the most strength of all. Especially when it's given to someone you don't think deserves it."

Somehow, he just knew that was true. It simply felt _right._

He smiled a little. "...Thanks, Sara. I like talking to you. You always make me feel better."

Sara filled with pride. It rose like a violent flood, so suddenly and swiftly that tears came with it, but she blinked them away and returned to distractedly de-crusting her sandwich. "You… often do the same for me, kid."

"I do?" he asked innocently. Sara was the last person he'd expected to have a positive effect on - well, other than Kratos, obviously. But she always seemed so sure of herself, so aloof.

She nodded, and the movement of her head swayed tendrils of pumpkin hair over her averted eyes.

"You give me hope." She wanted to look at him again, but knew that it would undoubtedly result in more tears. Lloyd Irving had a way of tugging at her heartstrings that she didn't know how to handle. Even though, right now, she kind of loathed it - really, she wouldn't change a thing.

"I just want you to know," she continued softly. "I will always believe in you, Lloyd. Even when you doubt yourself… I'll be cheering you on."

Lloyd was a bit stunned. Happy, but stunned. "...Thanks, Sara. You're a good friend."

"Pfffffft." She waved a hand at him dismissively and huffed a laugh. "Hey, it's late. Get some rest, okay? We've got a big day tomorrow."

"Okay," he agreed. Maybe a good night's sleep is just what he needed to clear his head. He stood up, stretching both arms in the air with a yawn. Sara timidly glanced at him from the corner of one still slightly-watery eye.

"Goodnight," he said with a grin.

As he headed towards his sleeping bag, Sara remained seated by the fire and at last took a decent bite of her sandwich. She grimaced. It wasn't the best thing she'd ever eaten, but it was calories and protein, and it was necessary. She chewed and swallowed dutifully, alternating between long, grateful swigs from her canteen.

It couldn't have been more than two minutes before Kratos finally sat down in Lloyd's place. He leaned forward, relaxed, his elbows resting on his bent knees.

Sara gave him a wry smile. "Eavesdropping as usual, I see?"

The fire lit up his garnet eyes, which at the moment were looking over Sara's shoulder and at Lloyd as he laid down to sleep.

"...You're too soft on him," he murmured.

Sara was just about to gape at the mercenary, but remembered quickly that she had sandwich in her mouth still. So she swallowed first - which required another sip of water… Eventually, she could actually speak decently. She gestured to Lloyd over her shoulder with one thumb. "Did you not see him just now? He's plenty hard on himself. Show me another teenage boy capable of that kind of introspection, and I will drop down and kiss your weird boots right now."

Kratos looked utterly befuddled. He frowned and glanced down at his feet. "...'Weird'?"

"Seriously, what's with all the belts?"

He blinked. "They are… functional…"

"I know you're his mentor," she continued, slightly more serious, "so you want him to be tough and strong and all that." Her voice changed for just a moment, becoming yearning, wistful. "But learning the value of kindness, especially in the face of adversity, is one of the most important lessons he can learn."

Kratos' eyes hardened. He lowered his burgundy head, studying a small collection of rocks at his feet with a thoughtful intensity.

"...No. I have no right to guide anyone." He paused here, and she wasn't sure if it was an offer for questioning, or because he had to decide if he wanted to explain himself. He continued before she had the chance to do the former. "Once before I had someone who called me, 'teacher.' But I was unable to save him from falling into the depths of despair." He scowled bitterly. "That is… my crime."

Wow. More honesty. This was obviously another important piece of the complicated human puzzle that was Kratos. She stacked it in a corner of her mind along with his numerous other pieces, although it was clear there were still many left to discover.

"...I'm sorry," Sara said softly. "But _don't_ take it out on Lloyd."

He picked up one of the rocks and fiddled with it absently, yet remarkably gracefully, in one hand. His long fingers seemed to make the small stone dance. He looked up at her, though his bangs hid half of his face.

Sara met his gaze steadfastly. "I don't know what happened in your past, but Lloyd is Lloyd - not whoever you think you've failed before. He deserves your best, because he gives you nothing but his."

She had the distinct feeling that his flat expression was hiding a thousand thoughts. He stayed silent for awhile, so she took the opportunity to unceremoniously scarf down the remainder of her sandwich.

"...You're right," he muttered finally. "I am often not present when I should be. Lloyd… deserves that from me."

She nodded after one final sip of water. "Okay. Good. ...Sorry for calling your boots weird."

He smirked. "No you're not."

"Yeah, no. Not really."

"...Heh."

"Hey, I've been practicing some more." She made a fist and stuck out her pointer finger, aiming it towards the sky. From its very tip sprouted a delicate, tiny flame. "Look."

Such a small display of fire took enormous control. It was so different from her old, explosive ways, and while he wouldn't admit it, he was actually a _bit_ impressed with how she'd taken his advice to heart and learned so quickly.

"I have noticed." He hesitated, like he needed to convince himself to continue further. She watched curiously as one hand went to his back, where his fingers slipped into a small pocket just beside his belts. "In fact, I was able to obtain something that should help your skills even more."

He withdrew his hand. In it rested a familiar, bluish-amethyst amulet, about the size of his palm, and gleaming with an otherworldly shine. Attached to it was a black leather cord that dangled over the side of his hand and swayed a little as he moved.

Sara's mouth fell open. She reached out one hand, her fingertips reverently skimming along the amulet's smooth surface. "Kratos… how… how did you get this? That old creepy dude wanted fifty-thousand gald for it!"  
He cleared his throat and set his sharp, defined jaw. "...I merely negotiated."

"'Negotiated?' How -" She stopped herself. Swords were likely involved. Perhaps the casting of an intimidating spell or two... "You know what? Don't tell me. I don't need to know. ...It's so beautiful. Look how it shines..."

He was suddenly shifting closer, that leather cord held gently in his loose fists. She watched him, quiet and intent, as he lifted both hands towards her.

He seemed to melt again, the hard lines of his face smoothing over in a warm, sweeping wave.

"...May I?" he asked quietly.

"Oh." Sara's eyes widened. They darted from his hands to his face and back again. "Uh, sure."

She wasn't completely positive, but it sounded like he held his breath. His hands went to either side of her head as he eased the cord slowly past the half-bun of her hair and over her ears. The cord was long, and left plenty of room - but a few of those deft fingers just barely skimmed along the side of her throat in a fleeting, timorous caress.

Her breath caught, stupidly. _Dammit_. She hoped he didn't notice.

Kratos studied the necklace's placement fiercely, as if it were a very important task he felt necessary to execute with nothing short of perfection. Her shoulder-length hair was just long enough to end up beneath the cord; those same fingers apparently found it necessary to correct this, because they slid to the back of her neck, where they gently brushed the errant strands up and over the length of leather.

They lingered against her skin for just a _tiny_ bit too long.

Sara's face exploded in crimson heat. Completely unintentionally, the next exhale from her slightly-parted lips made the campfire roar with new life.

He quickly withdrew his hands and sat back. His expression remained mostly impassive, though his eyes were still swimming, melting.

She swallowed thickly. "Uh. Thanks."

It took her awhile to realize he was speaking.

"...The merchant said it was from a clan of dragons in the far Northern hills over five hundred years ago."

Sara looked down. Oh, right. The amulet.

It rested squarely in the center of her chest, and its weight there was oddly comforting. She picked it up and cradled it in one palm. "That's where Ko'tenda was from." She turned it back and forth in the firelight, watching it gleam. "This… could've been from one of his ancestors. It _is_ close to his shade…"

"Perhaps." That one rebellious corner of his mouth twitched into a smile again. "At any rate, it should bring more power to your flames."

She nodded. Her fingers curled around the amulet, and she cradled it against her chest. She took in a steeling breath and met his eyes once more.

"...Thank you so much," she said softly. "This means a lot to me, Kratos."

For a flash, he looked almost afraid, as if unprepared for some thought that had surfaced. It was gone quickly - and in its place returned that same typical frigidity.

He stood, one hand on his scabbard, and turned lateral. "...If you become stronger, you will be that much more capable of guarding the Chosen. Her success is… my job."

...Brrrrrr.

"Alright, then…" She stood as well, unphased. Over one shoulder, she gave him a confident, broad grin. "...Goodnight, Kratos."

He watched her walk away. She was already far out of earshot when he finally managed: "...Goodnight."

He stared down at his fingers. A few of them rubbed together slowly, as if remembering a past touch.

* * *

Raine Sage and failure were not well-acquainted.

From a young age, she'd been blessed with an undeniable thirst for knowledge. Normal people, who didn't feel that beautiful urge to grow, to expand their mental horizons… she just didn't understand them. She kind of hated them, honestly, in some childish corner of her mind. What was life _for,_ if not the pursuit of bettering oneself and reaching unknown potentials?

This drive, this unbreakable motivation, was largely what had gotten her this far in her twenty-three years. Even when she was young, and had to look after her completely frustrating, equally hard-headed younger brother - really there were some days when she'd just stare at him and breathe, because that's all she knew how to do - she persevered. She figured it out. She _accomplished_.

But yesterday was different. Completely, unnervingly, disturbingly different.

She had exhausted all of her skills, all of her training. She'd thrown everything she was at something, and it… still hadn't been enough. Not that it was her fault, really, because it wasn't like she hadn't tried. She simply hadn't known enough.

And she _hated_ it.

Genis knew. Though only twelve years old, the young mage was remarkably empathetic and perceptive. He'd kept his distance from her all day, and when he _had_ spoken to her, it was general encouragements or soft suggestions. She'd have to thank him later, when her right mind had returned.

They'd made it back to the Palmacosta human ranch. Though her graceful, pale face gave nothing away, Raine's mind was a tangle of doubts. If she couldn't save Dorr, how could she help these people? How could she help Colette, or her brother, or Lloyd? What if her healing skills were a mere farce? What if -

Genis was tugging at her sleeve. He'd done this since they were young, and at times she'd found it annoying or cumbersome - but right now, she slid an involuntary hand into his hair and smiled before she could convince herself not to.

"I'm alright," she forced out. Her brother's face fell in relief. It helped her harden her heart, and with the next exhale of her breath, she was focused once again, the leader, the Professor, the healer.

"We have work do to do," she finished. Beside her, and with unquestionable certainty, Genis was nodding.

Neil met them today, much like he had yesterday, in the sheltering brush on the ranch's perimeter. He seemed to have gotten himself together just a bit more - the nervous shakes were gone from his voice, and his soft face seemed cut from stone, unwavering and grim.

"...No. Don't say anything. From the looks on your faces, I can imagine what happened to Dorr."

Raine felt the sudden urge to speak, to explain what had happened. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Colette ended up speaking for her, in a crystalline, saccharine voice that she at once appreciated and envied. "But Dorr did say this: he wants us to save Chocolat."

"Governor-General," Neil muttered thoughtfully, and with a devoted sigh. "I understand. Please, take me along to carry out his last wish."

Lloyd stepped forward, but not before looking back at his friends. He received nothing in the contrary, only supportive nods from a mixture of silver, golden, orange, and burgundy heads. He turned to Neil. "Alright."

Neil smiled. He seemed relieved to once again have a purpose, and he returned Lloyd's word with a few humble bows. "Th-thank you all…"

"...At any rate," Raine cut in, rather stonily. "Let's see if we can find a place to use that key we received from Dorr."

"There will be plenty of resistance," Neil said grimly. "Please take care and assure you are prepared."

This was it. They were finally going to infiltrate a _human ranch_.

Excitement and fear gushed unstoppably through Lloyd's veins. This was a place that had been fraught with malaise and mystery since he was a child; it almost didn't feel real to be standing here, on the cusp of discovery. He stared through the treetops and up at the obsidian walls that stretched into the sky.

His body tensed. His palms went instinctively to the hilts of his blades, where they rested warily. "Well, is everyone ready?"

Colette and Genis were instantly flanking him, and while they both looked a bit nervous, their determination and courage won out as they responded, "Yes."

"Now is as good a time as any," the Professor added. The gem at the tip of her staff flashed its agreement.

Kratos nodded again, though his expression remained unchanged. "Do not hesitate. They will show no mercy, and neither should we."

"Yeah. That," Sara said, one half of her mouth pulled into a confident smirk. Her claws shot out, and she flexed them one by one. "Also, let's kick some ass."

Thankfully, there were no patrols that impeded their progress - they made it unseen all the way to the front gate, which turned out to be a small mechanical door seamlessly integrated into the surrounding walls. Before it was a strange-looking console of some sort, with glassy screens that glowed with lime-green and yellow lights. Lloyd, Genis, and Colette all seemed baffled by this display of foreign technology - Iselia never had anything close to this. Sara was equally as confounded - Kozei had been mostly limestone and wood. Kratos and Raine, however, seemed to innately understand its purpose.

"This is where we put in the passcode," Raine said, her graceful fingers hovering over the console's keys like they'd been there a thousand times. There was a small slot in the display, about the size of the card that Dorr had given them - she turned to Lloyd and extended one hand. "The card key, please."

Lloyd's face was full of wonder as he pulled the requested object out from a pocket at his side. "That's what this thing is? I mean, I knew it looked important, but…"

"It is a product of magitechnology," Kratos said suddenly. "All human ranches are controlled by similar systems."

"Wow, really?" Lloyd was at once impressed and disgusted. "The Desians must really know what they're doing…"

"You are correct." The mercenary met Lloyd's gaze of wonderment with a stern glare. "They are formidable enemies. Be on your guard."

Lloyd did not hesitate to agree this time. "Right…"

With a little more of Raine's magic fingers, the passcode had been entered and the front door disengaged with a soft hiss. Behind it laid a staircase, at the end of which stood a foreboding, dark shadow that Lloyd plunged into without hesitation.

He was met with a blinding, clinical display of lights. The change was so abrupt that he paused at the stairway's exit, his umber eyes squinting and readjusting painfully. The walls here were as equally as strange as that console they'd come across outside - inlaid with pulsing, glowing lights and metal rods and pipes that creeped up and into the ceiling, which was low and dark red, almost bloodlike in color.

Lloyd hated it. Every single bit.

He stepped forward slowly, jerking his head from left to right, inspecting each end of the long, sterile hallway. It was empty, which somehow seemed worse than if he'd spotted an enemy. At least that would've given him some sort of direction. Now, though, he was forced to choose one way based on instinct alone.

"Any ideas?" he mumbled.

Raine poked her head forward beside his. "The right looks to be a dead end. Let's head left."

The hallway was unnervingly quiet. The floor they walked on seemed to be made of some weird silvery-ceramic substance that felt both unbreakable and fragile. Eventually, they found a large, rectangular room. Lloyd spotted a trio of Desians at the far end, one of which had a sword, the other with a whip, and the third with a heavy crossbow. His back instantly met with the wall.

"Over there," he whispered, gesturing his head across the room.

Genis gulped, his small fingers curling into the wall behind him. "What should we do? Sneak around them, or-"

Before he had a chance to finish, a blur of black, teal and orange shot past him. Sara had crossed the room and taken out one of the Desians with a swift, well-placed slash of her claws before the other two had a chance to notice. The second's neck met fatally with the spikes on her right gauntlet, and the third was just about to open his mouth and call for help before the claw on her right index finger pierced up and through the bottom of his chin. The sole of her boot met solidly with his abdomen, and he ended up in a bleeding pile on the floor as she turned back to the others, her earthen eyes determined and dark.

"Forget sneaking. Let's get on with it. The less time we spend here, the better."

"Yeah," Genis found himself saying, although his eyes were wide as he stepped past the freshly-dead Desian bodies. "I don't want to stay here very long."

"I have to agree," his sister muttered distastefully. "Being inside a Desian facility is not a pleasant experience."

They were met with a few more simple battles with underling Desians - not enough to hinder progress, but just enough to be an exhausting nuisance. Raine's healing spells proved very useful multiple times over, which for the moment was helping to keep her head clear. Those creepy hallways seemed to stretch on forever and in every direction like some spider's endless skinny, hollow legs - until finally, one of them opened up into a giant, tomblike room.

The first thing that hit them was a sour stench. The stagnant air was drenched with it, like it hadn't seen anything remotely fresh in far too long. The room itself was two floors, but both served the same purpose; along the northern walls were carved a series of cells, and stuffed into each one were dozens of humans, shoulder-to-shoulder, all facing forward with dull, melancholy stares. On varying locations of their ashen bodies was an Exsphere, embedded into their skin like shiny red parasites. Skinny knees and bony shoulders poked out of sacklike brown canvas tunics that were smudged top to bottom with something that was either dirt, blood, or judging by the smell, much more unpleasant bodily fluids…

Lloyd's hand flew to his face where the back of it pressed against his nose and mouth. He swallowed hard, hoping to force down the bile in his throat.

"I-it's the captives," Genis muttered, like he couldn't believe his own words.

At this, those rows of cells sprang suddenly alive. Their lifeless prisoners all turned to face the Chosen's group, their wide, sunken eyes like bright beams through misty shadows. Ghostly arms began reaching between the metal bars, skeletal and stringy, clawing at air, fighting for attention. A hum slowly grew, soft and low at first, then fervent and strained, begging, moaning for help.

"Please," Colette forced out, her pale face nearly translucent. Her flaxen hair caught the meager light and made her appear to glow. "Let's save them…"

Raine was nodding, although she didn't seem to have any control over it. "Yes. We can't just leave them here like this."

Sara stepped forward. Those desperate arms shoved at her, scarred skin and withered muscle stretching, begging after her every movement. She turned and met one, raising a hesitant hand, easing her claws between its waifish, delicate fingers with terrified tenderness.

"No," she breathed, "Not a second longer."

A staircase stretched to their left, leading to a wide empty floor, in the middle of which sat another of those mechanical, glowing consoles. Neil headed down it quickly, motioning for them to follow. "This way, please. This mechanism deactivates the cell doors."  
Raine's hands instantly found those keys again and began tapping away. Moans for help echoed endlessly. The Chosen fought the urge to cover her ears. Her back straightened, and she tilted her chin with a forced self-injection of courage. She took two small steps towards one of the cells, holding one hand up before her, palm out. The other rested on her chest, just beneath her Cruxis Crystal. She tried to smile.

"I promise we will help you. Just give us one moment."

"Are you the Chosen?" one of the voices asked. It belonged to a withered man who couldn't have been much older than thirty, but his sunken, grungy face aged him decades. He was gripping two of those steel bars in his hands, although it looked to be as much for support as it was eagerness for freedom.

"Yes," Colette replied without hesitation. "And we are here to set you free."

"Got it," the Professor announced. A loud, metallic clank pierced the still air. The bars in that man's hands disappeared and shot into the floor. He tumbled forward - but Colette caught him before he ended up on his face, one small arm securely around his bony shoulders. She smiled brightly as she met his wide, awed eyes.

"Th-thank you," he stammered breathlessly. "My son… is my son safe?"

As she settled him onto his bare feet, the others in the cells began slowly emerging, their pale faces stretched in disbelief. Colette thought of a graveyard coming alive, hundreds of skeletal bodies clawing their way from the ground.

She met the man's shadowed gaze sincerely. "Who is your son?"

"He's only nine." His grey eyes clouded over with tears. "He's in Palmacosta. His name is Tony. Please, is he…"

Joy leapt into Sara's freckled features. "Tony is just fine, sir," she said with a warm smile. "He's waiting for you at home. And he can't wait to see you."

The prisoner's knees weakened. He covered his face in ragged, trembling hands. He tried to meet the floor again but Colette's arm thankfully still cradled his shoulders. "Oh, thank you so much… please help me get home to him."

"Leave them to me," Neil said earnestly. "Members of the Palmacosta Army will be here soon. I'll remain here, meet up with them, and see these people to safety. Please fulfill the Governor-General's last wishes and save Chocolat."

Colette's eyes were flicking from face to face. "How do we know she's not in one of these cells?"

Neil shook his head. "She is a high priority prisoner. They will have her deeper inside, near Magnius' chambers." He turned and pointed down the staircase to their left, at the end of which was another door. "Through there."

Lloyd nodded. Every one of his friends seemed to share his sense of hesitance and anxiety about leaving all of these people, but Neil was right.

Lloyd strode forward into the darkness. Behind him, those moans for help were transforming into broken, overjoyed sobs. He wasn't sure which was harder to hear.

* * *

Magnius considered himself a patient man.

The seat beneath him was his favorite. Not only because it was his, and only his - he'd killed the last cretin that had merely rested against its arm. But it was cut from the same metal as the perimiter walls, and while cold and rather unforgiving, it screamed power and success. He sat in this grand chair with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. His stubbled jaw rested easily on his knuckles. A large screen hung in front of him, and he narrowed his eyes at it. He watched intently as that kid in red stalked down the hall towards his room, blissfully unaware that Magnius had been watching his every move. That same arrogant, inferior kid who'd had the nerve to challenge him in front of his own charges…

It wouldn't end so well for him this time. Magnius had made sure of it.

It was hard to wait for _this,_ though. He could already taste his promotion, and more importantly, the respect of those undeserving dogs above him - except for, of course, his master. His master was no mere dog. For that man, the king of half-elves this world over, could do no wrong. A mere glance in Magnius' direction would suffice as a reward.

His muscular, bunched back straightened at the thought. The edge of his mouth curled into a sneer.

"Not long now."

* * *

These new hallways were all empty.

The sound of their footsteps bounced off the cold walls like dozens of relentless, thunderous crashes. Lloyd's face was one permanent flinch. The hair on the back of his neck stood firmly straight up. He tried to silence his breaths a little, but even they seemed deafening no matter what he did.

"Is anyone else finding this really weird?"

Kratos was frowning more than usual. "This does seem rather… simple."

"It's gotta be a trap," Genis said quietly. He didn't really notice how his knuckles were turning white around the stem of his kendama.

A corner loomed ahead, as ominous and unforgiving as a cliff's sheer, sharp edge.

"On my count of three," Lloyd began, his eyes thinning. "One… two…"

In a flurry of legs and feet, they lunged forward, weapons ready, breath held.

...This room was _not_ empty.

Half of the floor was collapsed into a black, seemingly bottomless pit. Only a pair of thin bridges connected one side to the other, each one a mere meter thick and lined with uncomfortably frail rails. The far edge was bustling with Desians; a door hissed open, and several of the soldiers, with insistent, sharp sword tips, were shoving a woman forward into the unforgiving darkness.

Lloyd caught a flash of chestnut hair and a familiar pair of defiant shoulders. "Chocolat!"

She turned instantly, though she was handcuffed and restrained by insistent Desian hands. None of this seemed to perturb her. Her gaze pierced across the room at Lloyd and held on with vicelike, hopeful intensity. The Desians beside her took a moment to realize what exactly had shifted her focus - when they had, their collective attitude slid from smug and confident to fervent and hurried. Their formation tightened into sections of calculated movements - all of which at once became directed at Lloyd.

Chocolat opened her mouth to call to the Chosen and her companions; the Desian beside her stifled the cry with a sharp crack of his hand across her face. She scowled, and shook her head quickly to combat the sting.

"Stop!" Lloyd's blades were gleaming as they cut swiftly through Desian flesh. "Let her go!"

Colette's wings unfurled in a brilliant flash. She floated into the air and sailed over the bridges, hovering squarely between them. The edges of her white cloak fluttered as she brandished her chakrams, their razor-sharp edges biting and slashing repeatedly against her foes.

Lloyd and the Chosen fought together seamlessly; no additional aid even became necessary. The battle ended swiftly. Colette lowered herself gracefully to the far side of those bridges while her companions followed after her.

One side of Chocolat's youthful face was still angry red, though she managed a brilliant, relieved smile. She stepped over several Desian bodies without the slightest bit of hesitance. "You came to rescue me?"

"Yup!" Colette's friendly smile fell into a nervous frown as she noticed how the girl's normally well-upkept clothing was tattered and soiled. "Did they hurt you? Are you okay?"

She was just about to turn to Raine and ask for a precautionary healing evaluation when Chocolat assured earnestly: "Yes, I'm fine. Chosen, everyone… thank you all so much."

Lloyd was blushing a little as he returned his blades to their scabbards. "Ah, don't mention it…"

Another heavy metal door awaited them on the far wall; Kratos approached this with familiar self-assurance and began poking at a small keypad beside it. He spoke gruffly over its contrarily gentle beeps. "There is no time to be celebrating. We still need to take care of Magnius."

Sara wrinkled her nose distastefully. One of her claws worked at the keyhole to Chocolat's shackles. "Well, you're alive and okay, so that's plenty cause for celebration." They popped off and clattered to the floor after a few deft twists and pivots. Chocolat rubbed at her wrists and smiled gratefully. Sara smiled back. "We're glad to help."

Kratos humphed and narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

"Assistant Governor-General Neil is taking the people imprisoned here to safety," Raine began. She met Kratos beside the waiting door as it slid open slowly. "Our job is to secure the control room and assure a safe escape."

The stale air seemed sweeter as Chocolat inhaled it gratefully. "Dorr finally mobilized his plans, didn't he?"

Every one of the Chosen's group seemed suddenly frigid and unsure. Genis kept his silver head lowered as he followed after his sister; Colette's normally vibrant face became ashen and demure.

"Right?" Chocolat pressed.

Lloyd wouldn't meet her eyes. He cleared his throat once, and finally managed: "Um… uh, yeah."

Though she found this a bit strange, that small hope was good enough for her. She headed down the newly-opened hallway with confident steps. "In the back here is a platform that leads to a room filled with sparkling lights and other magical looking things. I'll show you the way."

Raine nodded and fell into step beside her. "It may be a bit dangerous, but we appreciate your help."

"Of course," Chocolat said. "Follow me."

At the end of this hallway was an automated lift. Strange machinery hummed constantly in the background; the walls seemed to pulse with energy, like whatever laid behind them thumped and fought to escape.

The Professor's leather, light blue boots paused at the platform's edge, before stepping onto its ceramic-like surface. It shuddered beneath her feet, but then held firm. She glanced back at the others. "This way. This platform should carry us upwards."

"A-all of us?" Genis gulped, though he joined his sister a moment later.

"Our collective weight should not be an issue," Kratos offered factually. He stood stonily behind Raine, while Lloyd and Colette flanked him. Sara and Chocolat shuffled in behind them. They all rose slowly but steadily up to the second floor after a quick button-press by Raine.

One last door stood at the end of the room. It was huge, and inlaid with intricate metallic accents that seemed superfluous and somewhat out of place compared to the previous rooms. Which couldn't have been a good sign.

This was further confirmed by Chocolat. "I think Magnius is in there. Be careful, everyone."

As usual, Lloyd pressed forward without doubt. To his immense surprise, the door opened upon his approach, allowing him forward ahead of his companions. When he was inside, he stood in the new, massive room for several silent moments, utterly enthralled. It was the crux of all the previous areas they'd visited; vast, complicated, and spread wall-to-wall with humming machinery. Portions of the room were sectioned off, undoubtedly in differing functional characteristics, and each of which harbored its own Desian - along with Magnius, who sat grinning in the center, in a giant, obsidian chair that gleamed wickedly. He seemed completely at ease. That square jaw still rested easily on the knuckles of his left hand.

"So this is the control room," Lloyd mumbled.

Magnius' voice was far too familiar. It spat forward like lava, scalding and unwelcome. "So, the forsaken Chosen and her entourage of vermin have finally arrived."

Kratos tilted his head curiously. "'For…saken?'"

"You've got it all mixed up, Magnius," Lloyd growled. His blades were out now, gleaming proudly before his chest. "Your time here is up."

Despite Magnius' still frame, a half-dozen Desians eaked from the perimeters and towards the Chosen's group, weapons brandished, smirks confident. Lloyd remained steadfastly in the lead, his shoulders straightening, his heart pumping in preparation.

Colette was not nearly as sure of success. Her sapphire eyes were wide and frail. "We're surrounded…"

"Hahaha! Just like a bunch of stupid vermin," Magnius announced. He finally slid forward from his prized chair, his metal boots crunching against the floor as he stood. "I know your every move. And I know all about those inferior beings trying to escape, too."

A large screen hung on the wall behind him, and across it flashed a moving image of Neil leading a scraggly crowd of captives though an empty room. On the far side was a door that looked to lead outside and into the ranch's main courtyard; they headed towards it as quickly as they could.

Lloyd, Genis, Sara and Colette all looked rather confused. "How did Neil get in there…?" the Chosen wondered aloud, much to Magnius' amusement.

"That's a projector," Kratos said coolly. "A product of magitechnology."

Raine was nodding, and obviously interested in its functions despite their dire surroundings. "It's a device that displays images of people and things that are far away." She frowned. "We were displayed on here as well, apparently."

The projector's image flickered briefly - that exit at the end of the room suddenly slammed closed. Neil flinched, and the captives behind him halted abruptly. Some of them fell hopelessly to their knees, covering their faces with grimy hands.

"Oh no," Genis breathed, his face paling. "They're trapped…"

"A wasted effort," Magnius seethed. His broad hands went to his hips as he straightened his back. "Everything you've done is meaningless."

Lloyd shook his head firmly. "How so?!" The tip of one blade shot out and pointed straight at the Desian leader. "We can rescue everyone after we take care of _you!_ "

Undeterred in the slightest, Magnius took a step forward. He eyed Lloyd smugly and grinned with one half of his mouth. "Big words from someone whose actions caused the disaster at Iselia."

Lloyd recoiled as if punched. His breath choked in his throat and he swallowed hard. "That… that was…"

"I know," Magnius continued relentlessly, stroking his square chin with one hand. "How about I recreate that incident using the vermin on the projector? Watch. I'll unleash their Exspheres and turn them into monsters!"

Panic pressed into Lloyd from all sides. He shook his head fervently and fumbled to poise his blades. "No! Stop!"

Magnius laughed. "Come on now, I'll be more than happy to turn them into monsters. Just like that old lady you killed…" He turned and flung the rest of his words deliberately at Chocolat. "Just like _Marble_!"

The girl's face fell in complete astonishment. Her gaze locked with Lloyd's, who looked back at her desperately, like a thousand words were ready to spring from the tip of his tongue.

"M-Marble?" she echoed softly. "You don't mean…"

Magnius' grin widened. "Oh, but I do, my little Chocolat. Dear old granny Marble was sent to the Iselia ranch, where she was killed by Lloyd. I heard she met a pitiful end!"

Before Lloyd could respond, Genis had pounced in front of him. His small hands were balled into shaking fists. "Wait, it wasn't like that! Lloyd tried to save her! But because of her Exsphere, the Desians turned her into a monster and-"

"Lloyd killed her," Magnius finished.

Disgust, sadness, rage… these things burned at once in Chocolat's chest.

She kept shaking her head slowly. Bitter tears welled and tumbled onto her cheeks. Lloyd, and the Chosen… they were supposed to be the good guys. How could they…

In the end, it turned out that she'd been right all along - Martel was a joke.

She took one step backwards. "No… Get away from me!"

"Now hold on," Sara began sternly. Her expression was unwavering and sincere as she stepped up beside Lloyd, who was glaring dejectedly at the ground. "That doesn't change the fact that he risked his life to save you!"

"I don't care!" she countered, her voice raw and strained. "You killed my grandma Marble!"

"You _don't_ know what you're saying," Sara said thinly. Flames lanced involuntarily across her palms. She curled her fingers to snuff them out. "Your grandma was killed by the _Desians_ , not Lloyd. If she became a monster, it was _their_ fault - and Lloyd only had the strength to end her suffering. You should be _thanking_ him!"

Lloyd wanted to speak, but his mouth felt full of tar and rocks. He was unsure of what he'd say, anyway, so it was just as well.

"Just _shut up_! All of you!" Chocolat turned away, towards the Desians behind her, and unbelievably offered herself freely to their awaiting grasp. Two of them took both her arms and held tight. Her eyes were tearful and hard as she scowled at Lloyd. "I refuse to be saved by grandma's _murderer_. I'd rather die!"

"You mustn't say things like that!" Colette shouted. "Don't throw your life away!"

"Dorr will save me," she hissed. "Now leave me alone!"

At this, Magnius erupted in hearty laughter. "Right, Dorr, huh. Well, whatever you'd like to think, my dear. Take her away!"

For the first time, Chocolat went along with the Desian soldiers without so much as a contrary glance. Her chin was tilted proudly the whole time, even as they led her towards the door in the rear of the room. She managed one last embroiled glance back at Lloyd, who simply stood still and silent. The door eased from left to right, drawing darkness across her shoulders, and then her stony face, before shutting with a resounding slam.

"Now, what to do with the Chosen and her pathetic companions," Magnius sneered. He held out one hand beside him; beneath it rose a hidden compartment out of the floor itself. It halted just beneath his palm, where it opened to reveal a massive, metal weapon - an unholy cross between an axe and a scythe. Its razorlike edges were tinted blood red; in its center gleamed a glassy, blue gem. An Exsphere…

Lloyd's mood shifted instantly. Guilt and shame gnawed at him like a pack of ravenous rats; he shook them off and squared his shoulders. He cleared his mind and focused. Magnius transformed from a distant and nightmarish figure into a very real battlefield foe.

And Lloyd was hungry for a fight.


	13. Humilitas (Humility)

Chapter Thirteen

 _Humilitas_

* * *

Lloyd had never faced a Grand Cardinal in battle before. He knew of them, yes - that guy, Forcystus, who had attacked Iselia and set off his banishment, had been one of these reputed upper-class Desians as well. Somehow they all seemed to have this invaluable stash of priceless weapons and machinery; in Magnius' case, it was that giant scythe-like axe, with an Exsphere embedded in its center.

Magnius himself was flanked by four of his Desian soldiers - two on each side. Six on six. They were evenly matched, number-wise - not that it mattered. Lloyd wouldn't lose. He dashed quickly for the pair of Desians at Magnius' left, knocking one to the floor with a swirling " _Beast!"_ attack before parrying the other's sword strike with ease.

But that's where the ease stopped. While the other underling Desians were no problem, Magnius himself was a force to be reckoned with. He used both his weapon and a fiery array of spells; the tips of Lloyd's boots and gloves were singed from close calls. Even Kratos at some points seemed almost to struggle, which had never happened before; the mercenary ended up with a deep slash across the back of one shoulder, though one wouldn't have known it from watching him fight, which he continued to do without any interruption or indication of discomfort. Raine healed him quickly, of course, thought the favor was returned with a perturbed glare and a terse " _Tch."_

The Chosen's group fought well, a coordinated machine tuned near-perfectly to its equal parts. Colette herself incapacitated Magnius for a split second with a well-placed throw of her chakrams, just long enough for Genis' _Wind Blade_ to bite into his skin and force a protective arm over his suddenly dry, sandy eyes. Sara dashed forward at this opportunity, raking her claws along Magnius' dominant arm with a sweeping upward slash - " _Dragon's Wings!"_ His scythe-axe clattered noisily to his feet, and he barely had time to glance down at his blood-coated hand before Lloyd's knee exploded into his chin. The Desian's arms went limp and he sailed backwards, just barely managing to catch himself before meeting the cold steel floor. He ended up on one knee, panting, his coal-like eyes wide and furious.

Lloyd held one blade out before him, its bloodstained edge trembling eagerly mere inches from the Grand Cardinal's nose. Magnius spat at it, but didn't stand. Lloyd only eased it closer. Magnius swallowed; his adam's apple caressed the sword's tip.

"You're beaten," Lloyd announced darkly. "Do you yield?"

"How?" Magnius seemed to struggle for breath. "How could a superior half-elf like me…"

The sound of Kratos' sword sliding back into its scabbard cut the Desian short. "It's because you are a fool, Magnius." His angled jaw tilted as he crossed his arms. "Cruxis has accepted Colette as the Chosen." The blonde girl looked startled at the sudden mention of her title, but nodded earnestly a moment later.

Magnius' square jaw dropped. " _What?"_

"That's right," Lloyd agreed passionately. "Colette is going to regenerate the world! We're not going to lose to someone like you!"

"So… you're…" Magnius threw bewildered glances back and forth between Lloyd and Colette. Finally, his scarred face fell and he chuckled bitterly. "Then, I was deceived." He tried to stand, but instead slumped to the floor. He stared in wonderment at his profusely-bleeding wounds. His weapon rested close to his hand, and he reached for it slowly - but found that his fingers didn't have the strength to hold on.

Lloyd's eyes thinned. _Deceived?_ He was just about to ask what that meant when he heard Genis say his name. The boy was pointing across the room at that same screen; on it was a moving image of Chocolat being led down a long, dark hallway. Her wrists and ankles were shackled, making it hard to move, and she stumbled just slightly; a length of leather whip snapped forward and cracked across her back. Though no sound accompanied the image, it was obvious from her contorted face that she'd screamed in pain.

Lloyd's stomach churned and tensed. He looked away, back at bloodied, defeated Magnius, and wished he could fight him all over again. "Dammit!"

Raine approached a console on the wall beside them and began fidgeting with its many keys and buttons. Her brother, Colette, Lloyd and Sara all watched in wonderment; words and symbols flitted swiftly across its glowing screens.

Sara's head cocked curiously to one side. "How does she _do_ that?"

"This should allow the people imprisoned here to escape."

"R-Really?" Genis wore an elated grin. "You're amazing, Sis!"

Kratos stepped up beside them like a cool, stormy cloud. "What about the Exspheres implanted in them? Without Key Crests, it's only a matter of time before they go out of control."

Lloyd's breath trailed off in a growl. "Damn, you're right."

"Can't we just take the Exspheres off of them?" Genis asked hopefully.

Kratos shook his head slowly. "It's dangerous to attempt to remove an Exsphere lacking a Key Crest. I would imagine only a dwarf could handle it."

"We could ask Dirk to do it," Colette offered. She exchanged a nod with Lloyd.

"Yeah. Let's contact my dad."

"...We can work out the details later," Raine said thinly. "Right now, I'm going to program this place to self-destruct. Ready?"

 _Self-destruct?!_ Lloyd gaped at his Professor in a mixture of awe and disbelief. "Are you serious?!"

Hesitance crept into Genis' expression. He frowned and looked up at his sister. "Raine, if you do that-"

"At the very least," she interrupted sternly, "we'll deal a major blow to the Desian stranglehold over this region. If we're going to strike them, it should be thorough and decisive."

Genis swallowed hard, obviously still uncomfortable. "Raine…"

She tried to give him her version of an encouraging smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. "Remember, Genis. We're not like them. We're different."

Her right thumb firmly pressed one final button. Giant red numbers took over each and every screen, ticking steadily down from ten.

Sara paled and stepped back, horrified. "T-ten seconds?! That's-"

" _Minutes_ ," Raine corrected flatly. She gave Sara a hopeless glare.

"Oh." Sara inspected her claws nonchalantly. "Well, yeah, that makes way more sense. Good call."

Raine glanced one final time at Magnius, who remained sprawled on the floor, surrounded by his dead or dying soldiers. She turned away, stony and emotionless. The control room's exit door hissed open, and she headed steadily for it. "Let's hurry and evacuate." The others followed behind her, trailing one by one through the door.

At the sound of it easing closed, Magnius picked up his head. His remaining functional arm reached forward and found the edge of a depression in the floor, and he pulled on it with no small amount of difficulty. He dragged himself several feet across the room, leaving one long, rusty smear in his wake. A grey haze clouded his vision, and the air felt so cold. "I must… inform Lord Forcystus while I can…"

He'd just made it to another strange, mechanical device when that projector screen changed images yet again. This time, a lone figure stood in the center of the screen - his clothes were uncommon and intricate, full of sharp golden and silver lines over hues of forest green and deep blue. Around his neck and shoulders hovered an odd device, several gold metallic ribbons that hung down past his arms and nearly to the floor.

Despite all of this, his face was still weirdest of all - a long, beaklike nose that supported a pair of rimless glasses, thin, wry lips and wispy black eyebrows. He looked utterly mad, a description that was only further supported by his crooked grin.

"I have a sight problem with you contacting Lord Forcystus," he intoned. His voice was sharp and edgy, bouncing from low to high with each word. "He'd realize what I'm trying to do."

Magnius pushed himself up onto one elbow. His lips peeled back in a furious snarl. "Rodyle! You…you deceived me! There was no order to eliminate the Chosen, was there?"

Rodyle threw his head back and cackled. Despite his bony face, he had a round pot belly; it shook with each one of his hearty laughs. "Collecting Gald for me, attempting to eliminate the Chosen for me…you've been quite useful, Magnius." He leaned forward and raised a hand in a goading, cutesy wave. "Farewell! I hope you enjoy the afterlife!…"

The screen went black. Whatever motivation Magnius had mustered now slid out of him in a slow, frigid puddle. He sank once again to the floor. He wasn't sure what he really wanted to look at as he drew his last breaths, so instead he just closed his eyes and pictured his leader - elegant, brilliant, flawless… untouchable.

He smiled.

"…Lord Yggdrasill, glory to the coming Age of Half-elves."

* * *

Neil was waiting for them at the same spot they'd met at before. He looked proud and hopeful - but his face tensed in worry and confusion as he noted the Chosen's group not only continued straight past him like he didn't exist, but they were all sprinting. Bewildered, he followed after them. "Chosen One! Everyone! You're safe!"

Lloyd nodded, though his eyes were wide and he kept running. "What happened to the captives?"

"We've moved them all to Palmacosta."

"Great! Now, run faster!"

"Wh-what? Why?"

Colette's blue eyes were huge as she gestured her head back to the ranch. "It's going to explode!"

"Explode?!" The dirt crunched beneath his shoes. He managed a glance back to the front gates, and opened his mouth to ask for some sort of explanation - but a startled yelp came out instead. The ground shook. Trees shivered and rattled, causing dozens of birds to flee their branches in disorganized panic. Beyond their wings burst a giant, flaming ball, blindingly bright and churning upwards into the midafternoon sky. Though Neil had to be over a mile away, he still felt a flash of heat. His lungs seemed to rumble.

They came at last to a stop, all turning to watch that fireball slowly become a billowing, thick black cloud. It twisted higher and higher, until a breeze picked it up and smeared it across the vast expanse of blue like a toddler with a paintbrush.

Lloyd leaned forward and rested his hands on his bent knees. "I… I thought I was going to die…"

Colette seemed content and relieved. "I'm glad everyone's all right! We made it!"

Neil counted each of their group; they'd returned with as many as had entered. Which… hadn't been the plan. He frowned, and swiped at his forehead with the back of his forearm. "Ah… what about Chocolat?"

Lloyd stilled. He straightened his back, though his gaze fell to the ground, where his boot shuffled slowly against some small rocks. Its soothing scraping was the only sound between them.

Raine cleared her throat. "I think she was taken to another location." Lloyd slid his eyes to her with a thankful nod.

Neil sighed. "I see…"

Lloyd didn't really feel the sense of pride he hoped he would right now. Sure, saving dozens of wrongfully-imprisoned humans was no small feat and deserving of at least some recognition. But it lingered with undertones of failure… he couldn't shake the memory of Chocolat's disgusted stare and the sight of that whip slashing across her defiant shoulders.

Kratos eyed Lloyd carefully. "If she's alright, she can still be rescued."

"Yeah," Sara added, smiling. "We'll get her back, okay?"

"Yes," Neil agreed emphatically. "If you learn Chocolat's location, please let us know immediately.  
Dorr really wanted to save her."

Lloyd met the man's eyes and nodded. "Right. I swear we'll find her."

They spoke with Neil for a little longer, explaining the necessity of Dirk's help in removing the captives' Exspheres and how to contact him when ready. Eventually, they parted ways amicably with Neil returning to Palmacosta on the promise of ensuring the captives' safety.

"Welllll…." Sara rocked anxiously back and forth on her heels. That ominous black cloud still bubbled up towards the heavens, and she glanced back at it warily. "We destroyed a ranch and rescued its captives, believe it or not. So, what now?"

" _Now_ we continue on with our original purpose," Raine huffed. "We're not far from the Thoda Dock. Let's head for the geyser and get that infernal statue."

"Oh yeah," Genis moaned, frowning. "I almost forgot about that… I guess we have to walk more now, huh?" He peered down at his small feet, lifting one up and inspecting the sole. "I'm gonna need new shoes if we keep this up."

Lloyd's hand splayed against his stomach. He smiled sheepishly. "Professor, can we please eat first?"

"That's actually a good idea, Lloyd. We need to keep up our strength. We still have a long way to go."

One pot of Sara's meat stew later ("What kind of meat _is_ this?" "Oh, just… a bit of everything…"), everyone's spirits and energy had been restored and all were back on the road. Thoda Dock sat on the continent's easternmost point - they forged a path across more plains and rolling hills due east from what was left of Palmacosta's human ranch. Even now, several hours later, the last wisps of oily smoke still snaked steadily heavenward.

Lloyd wore his signature expression of deep thought: a furrowed brow, a downward stare, a twisted mouth. At any given time, whatever existed in his mind projected a mirror image of itself onto his face. "Magnius… hmm…"

Beside him, Colette blinked at this curiously. "What is it, Lloyd?"

"Those last things he said were kind of strange."

Kratos seemed suddenly interested. "You mean, about being deceived?"

Lloyd nodded, but it was Colette who spoke again. "I wonder what he was deceived by."

Raine adjusted the pack across her shoulder and shook her head. "There's no way to know now."

"Oh, I know!" Colette exclaimed suddenly, grinning. "Magnius thought the fake Chosen group was us!"

Lloyd slammed one fist into his open palm and grinned too. "Of course! Then everything would make sense!"

The next step Raine took faltered just slightly. Her head shook again, but tersely. "...No, it wouldn't! If that was the case, the imposters would've been killed by now."

Lloyd and Colette's mirth snuffed out in-sync. Genis smirked wryly. "Yeah, they may have been trying to copy us, but they can't copy our strength."

"That's a fact," Sara huffed. She held her first finger in the air with scholarly certainty. "As my grandpa used to say: 'imposters never prosper.'"

Genis rolled his eyes. "Are you sure he didn't mean, 'cheaters'?"

"...Just as Raine said," Kratos cut in stonily, "there's no way for us to know now. But Magnius is dead. Isn't that enough?"

Lloyd hadn't stopped frowning. "Yeah, I guess so. Still, I really thought we'd figured it out…"

Twilight approached swiftly, the distant hills glowing in hues of burnt orange and pink. There was not an Inn or a House of Salvation within reach, so the Chosen's group fashioned a makeshift campsite near the base of an ancient tree. Its branches hung low and swept across the grass; Colette laid down beneath them, marveling at her nature-made bed canopy. Raine was close by, using the firelight to edit her ever-growing list of Sylvarant's monsters (the latest entry involved a horse-sized grasshopper with scythes for fangs).

Genis, Lloyd, Sara and Kratos sat in a square around the fire, packing up and cleaning the dishes used for dinner. None of them had spoken much; exhausted silence seemed to be the theme of the evening. Lloyd sat crosslegged, turned away, his back to the other three as he stared up at the huge, bright moon - there were no clouds tonight, and it shone brilliantly, almost like a second sun.

"I wonder if she's okay," he muttered quietly.

Genis picked his head up and blinked at his friend. "Who? Chocolat?" He received a nod. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah. The way things wound up, she left before hearing from us what really happened."

Lloyd's voice was unusually rough. "...But… what she did hear was still the truth."

"But it's the Desians who are at fault!" Genis pressed, anger splashing crimson across his face. "It's not your fault!"

"Absolutely," Sara agreed sternly. She met Lloyd's askance gaze with resolute eyes. "From what I know of what happened, it's clear you did the best you could."

Kratos' voice cut in like shards of ice. "...Incompetent good intentions will only bring tragedy." He was met with a pair of furious glares, which he pointedly ignored.

"What did you say?!" Genis seethed.

Kratos calmly continued his task of reorganizing his pack. He didn't look up. "If you intend to do what is right, you need the strength to accompany that." Finally, he peered over at Lloyd, who stared back at him wide-eyed. "You lacked that. You were too weak."

Sara's hands curled into fists, but she sat silently. Genis exploded. "How can you say that?! Lloyd was… Lloyd was…"

Lloyd turned to face them, and inhaled a steeling breath. "Genis, it's okay. I don't like to admit it, but Kratos is right." Genis' look of ire was replaced with one of astonishment. Lloyd shook his head slowly. "I won't forget what I felt back there. I won't forget Marble and all the people of the village that lost their lives."

Kratos' expression didn't change, but he nodded. "Yes. That's right. Power is more than just your physical strength." He paused here, and blinked for just slightly too long. "The strength to acknowledge your crimes. The strength to remember them. You must have them as well."

Those words felt very strange to Lloyd, because it really seemed like Kratos was speaking from personal experience - and that was something Lloyd had never considered before. Kratos had only ever been infallible and wise, and he doled out this wisdom regularly and with nothing but certainty. Could the stoic, perfectionist mercenary really have ever done something _bad_?

Lloyd forgot for a moment about what they'd been speaking of, he was so wrapped up in this new mystery. Abruptly, he was jarred from his thoughts by an aromatic, steaming cup of cocoa appearing beneath his chin.

Sara smiled and gestured her head to the cup. "Here. You saved a lot of people today, kid. Treat yourself a little."

He gawked at her for a second before slowly taking the cup from her hand. It was pleasantly warm, and the sweet steam filled his lungs with comfort. "Th-thanks."

"I'll take the night watch. Go get rest."

Finally, a smile. "Okay. Thanks, Sara." He stood, and headed towards his waiting bedroll. Genis followed him and plopped down on his own beside Raine, scooting beneath the covers and settling his wild silver head onto his pillow. Lloyd's spot was against that same tree, just on the opposite side - and he sat down on top of it gingerly, leaning his back against the ancient wood. The moon caught his attention again, and he stared up at it in between pensive, chocolatey sips.

Sara stood, and headed towards the camp's edge. She brushed past Kratos stiffly. He stared hard at her back. Icy garnet eyes narrowed as his frown deepened. The fire popped, sending smoldering ash soaring through the night air like miniature comets.

After a few seconds, he followed her.

Her dragon-embroidered back was still to him when he spoke. "You seem to have become… protective of him."

She glanced back over one shoulder. Her eyes flashed defiantly in the moonlight. "He's still just a kid, Kratos. He's been - and is now going through - a lot of shitty things. He needs kindness, too."

His face was cut from stone. "...You should stop."

Breath left her lips in a scoff. Sara crossed her arms and faced him, her eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?"

"To succeed and grow, he needs to have a clear head." His gaze swept up and down her tall frame with clinical scrutiny. "You are merely giving him reasons to let his emotions cloud his judgment."

She openly stared at him. Fire blistered her heart and echoed across her tingling fingertips, and she laughed bitterly. "I'm sorry, I seem to recall you telling me once that you yourself had no right to guide anyone." A brazen step closer; a narrowing of umber eyes. "And who are _you_ to him? Why does your opinion undo mine?"

This seemed to jar him for a moment. That unflinching countenance suddenly fought for purchase, where before it had been effortless. "I am his… superior in the way of swordsmanship. He has requested that I train him. Your interference is only holding him back."

She blinked once, then once more. "...You're serious, aren't you?"

"Aside from that," he continued bitingly, "it is obvious you are using Lloyd to compensate for some hardship you yourself have experienced. Your own personal needs are getting in the way of his development."

Sara's expression tumbled from the heights of anger and down into dark chasm of hurt. She stepped back as if physically attacked. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you, Kratos?"

That was a good question. He soldiered on like it wasn't. "I merely speak the truth."

"The _truth_?" Her raspy voice wavered uncharacteristically. "What, that I'm some poor lost soul clinging to Lloyd for my own absolution? Well. A, speak for _yourself_ , and B, if you think that swordplay is all there is to life, then I feel super sorry for you."

"I am teaching him how to protect his own life and the lives of his friends. That is most important."

"According to who? _You_?" She grinned with contemptuous agreeance. "Right, because you're _such_ a shining example of how to live a fulfilling, happy life, Kratos."

He should've just shut up then and walked away. She kept glaring at him with hellfire, and for whatever reason, it goaded him, challenged him - and he kept opening his mouth. "Your anger is evidence of your inability to face reality."

She laughed again, a cynical, sable chuckle. "Oh, you're _funny_." Her finger flew out and jabbed at his chest, halting just before making contact. "No, it's just evidence of my inability to tolerate your _bullshit_. Keep telling other people how to think, Kratos, and see where that gets you."

And she was gone, those broad, purposeful steps taking her away and into the night. Kratos did the same, only returning to the fading campfire. He sat beside it and stared at it silently. Its embers glowed with the last flickers of life. He let them die, watching intently as each coal slowly eased one-by-one into darkness.

* * *

Sara tried to count the stars.

She'd never had much of an attention span, really, so maybe this was a futile effort. Too many things tended to catch her interest. Even as a child, she was rarely able to focus on one thing over another for more than a few moments. Well, except for Kozei's dragons… something about them always held her fleeting focus. She found them beautiful, and fascinating - they carried an effortless air of wisdom and power that she herself longed to emanate someday. Whether or not that would ever be possible, she hadn't quite figured out - but she still tried. And counting the stars seemed like something her mentor Ko'tenda would have done on his troubled nights.

But clouds kept getting in the way. Her eyebrows knitted together as she scowled. Beside her right hip rested a wooden flask. Its front and edges were worn and a slightly blonder color than the rest of its cherry surface. A length of leather circled around its neck and dangled freely - normally it hung from her belt, unnoticed and hidden by the tail of her duster. She uncorked its cap and took a biting swig.

Her next breath left her nose in a perturbed growl. _One, two, three…_

Those numbers suddenly matched with footsteps. Her hands tensed into fists. She kept her umber gaze sharply ahead.

The footsteps paused beside her. She refused to look at who they belonged to, although she already knew.

"...His name was Mithos," Sara heard him mumble.

 _What?_ Maybe she hadn't heard correctly. What was he talking about? He always had such a weird way of starting conversations…

Forward. She kept looking forward. Impatiently, she managed: "...Who?"

Kratos' quiet, reserved tone didn't change. A brief breeze rolled over distant plains and brushed up the hill, swaying his hair and those long, pointed tails of his cloak. "Many years ago, the teenage boy I trained… and failed." Impossibly, his voice quieted even more. "His name was Mithos."

 _Okay…_ That earned him a hesitant, yet still skeptical glance from the corner of her eye. He didn't have his usual idle hand on his sword; instead it rested at his hip, like he wasn't sure how to properly stand anymore.

"Just like the hero, huh?" she asked. Though she didn't turn her head, her right hand picked up the flask and swayed behind her: a kindly defiant offer. "...Here."

Kratos took it, numbly. Although he didn't partake, he studied its stained surface with a strange intensity. "Yes. He experienced one tragedy too many. He became lost, despite all my attempts. Eventually… he destroyed himself."

She nodded. Her head turned to him the slightest of degrees. "And… all you could do was watch."

"I hoped, as well." He ended their war of stubbornness by sitting beside her. "But in the end, it did not matter."

She didn't really mind. "Did you care about this Mithos kid?"

"Yes. Very much."

"Did you do your best?"

His eyes were cinnamon coals. "I did… all I could. All I knew how."

"Then _that_ is all that matters." Sara's back straightened. Though he kept his gaze downward, she now fought to meet it. "Why are you letting it destroy _you?"_

Her flask still rested in his gloved palm. He turned it back and forth several times, hearing the liquid inside gently slosh from one side to the other.

The question burst forth before she had a chance to think otherwise: "Is that where all of this came from, Kratos?"

"...As I've said once before: failing him was my crime." Such a distant, solemn frown. "In all those who wish to once again learn from me, I must bear the responsibility of my failure."

"What, by making other people feel like shit for trying to do good by someone? By trying to control everything?" Sara shook her fiery head and huffed a laugh. "That's a _stupid_ way of owning up to your mistakes, Kratos."

The flask was… still so interesting. Really, what kind of wood had it been made from? And how long had she had it? Did the wood affect the flavor at all, or-

"You don't have to forget the past," she continued, though with a kinder edge. His guilty expression had begun to best her. "Just… accept it and move on. You're allowed to find peace, you know. Nothing's stopping you."

 _Squeach!_

Off popped the cork. Predictably, his expression never changed, even as the flask's mouth met his lips and the whiskey burned down his throat. Its warmth was welcome, if a bit unpracticed. He instantly recognized the flavor - a solid, smoky sour mash that finished with hints of honey and black cherry.

She had good taste.

Neither of them spoke. The silence was easy, a comforting, mutual haze. Sara sighed loudly. Kratos echoed it soon after. They sat beside eachother like ghosts: not truly present, but there nonetheless, even if neither one of them believed it completely.

Eventually, Sara cleared her throat and leaned back on one arm. "You know… you weren't entirely wrong about me, as much as I hate to admit it."

It was his turn to corner-eye her now. "How so?"

"I guess… part of me really _is_ using Lloyd to ease some of my own suffering."

Warmth trickled down his gelid face. "...I was wrong to assume."

"Yeah, but what you assumed wasn't wrong." She stared down at her spare hand. Several moments passed before she spoke again, as if a heavy weight of memories held her tongue. "I spent a lot of my childhood alone, without guidance from anyone. I had to teach myself everything through trial and error. It was… really hard sometimes."

Though this wasn't entirely surprising to him, he still felt rather unsure of how to appropriately respond. So he offered, "...I see."

Her voice had begun to strip itself raw. He found it unnervingly difficult to hear. "There are times when I find myself saying things to Lloyd that I wish someone had told _me_. Maybe… maybe that's not what's best for him, though. Maybe you're right."

He sat up and pointedly shook his head, though his eyes remained locked onto her profile. "...I spoke out of anger. In truth, and with a clear mind… I believe you have only helped."

"Well, damn, Kratos." She huffed and met them; hers were laden with unsettling, fragile sadness. "You sure fooled me."

Kratos stared. Awkwardly, really. "...I'm sorry."

"Me too." Her hand swiped towards him. She swiftly stole the flask from his lax fingers. "...Give me that shit." And it went to her lips once more, where she gratefully took another draw.

He had only a moment to find this a little impressive before he spoke again. "For what it's worth… You taught yourself well."

She sneered, and gestured to herself grandly. "Heh. Right. I'm hotheaded, curse like a sailor, slaughtered my village, and haven't had an education since I was ten. I'm _such_ a role-model."

"When you were at your most lost, you found inner strength. You taught yourself the value of kindness and happiness. Those are… the most important lessons of all." He held her gaze without faltering - an uninterrupted, brutally-sincere stare. "...Some of us can never learn them, even with the best guidance."

For the first time, Sara felt just a bit edgy. Kratos baffled her - he could go from frigid, insulting obstinance to this strange supportive warmth with little to no provocation. And it apparently had entirely to do with whatever went on in his head.

And the way he looked at her… was that guilt? Admiration? Her own concoction, or something…else?

She steadied her throat and managed a small, playful smirk. "Thanks, Kratos. You're really not bad either."

 _Not bad…_

That phrase. He hated it, partly because it had originally been a snide insult on his otherwise flawless record.

But mainly because he liked it.

Kratos stood suddenly and silently. He smiled, just a little. "...Be safe, Sara."

"Uh, yeah." She smiled too, after a few seconds. "Goodnight."

Her eyes returned to the sky as his steps faded away behind her. Whatever remained of those obscuring clouds had cleared completely, and the stars finally emerged. They seemed doubly bright, as if making up for lost time.

Not that it mattered. She couldn't concentrate at all.

* * *

"Hi! Welcome to the Thoda Island Sightseeing Boat Dock!"

The receptionist's smile was blindingly bright and white. Her bubbly voice danced through the air, equally as chipper. Beside her, on the wooden counter that separated her from the Chosen and her companions, laid an assortment of campy brochures that she surreptitiously eased in their direction. "This is the most convenient - well, the _only_ way to view the Thoda Geyser."

Colette herself was beaming, her giant eyes alight with the promise of adventure. Lloyd and Genis were in similar states; the former had his face pressed to the window beside the counter, where he stared eagerly out over the water. The latter tried to do the same, but his forehead barely peeked over the bottom of the windowsill. He growled and balanced on his tiptoes, craning his chin skyward.

"It will be 200 gald for a round trip," the receptionist continued, eyeing them a bit hesitantly. "Would you like to use the boats?"

Raine dug through the pocket at her hip and procured the gald. Though she didn't meet the girl's eyes, she dropped the coins deliberately one by one onto the counter. The Professor wore an expression worthy of a funeral, or a sacrifice whose neck sat poised on a guillotine.

"Yes, please," she managed, monotonous.

"Thank you very much!"

And then they were all filed outside, around the corner of the small building and onto the dock itself. It wasn't very wide, barely enough to fit two people shoulder-to-shoulder, and maybe fifty feet long.

The most peculiar thing, though, were the dozen or so 'boats' that were moored to the dock's support beams. They rocked softly back and forth on the water's calm surface. They were definitely not boats - because they were _definitely_ oversized washtubs.

Lloyd's steps slowed from an excited trot, to a calm walk, and then finally ceased completely. He stared ahead open-mouthed. "It's a… washtub?"

Genis swallowed and nodded. "Yep. It's a washtub…"

"Washtubs," Kratos echoed, one hand pensively to his chin. "Hmm…"

Sara could do nothing but blink. "Uh… really?"

Colette ran ahead fearlessly; Lloyd and the others expected a trip and tumble, possibly entirely off of the dock - but surprisingly, she managed to keep her feet. "Wow! This looks like it'll be fun!" The others followed behind her in varying states of excitement.

Except for Raine, who didn't move one bit. "I… I'm going to wait here." She gestured sincerely to the water, as if a soldier motioning her comrade to fight on without her. "Go on ahead, all of you."

Lloyd paused and gave her a curious look. "What's wrong, Professor Sage?"

"N...nothing." Then, factually, simply: "I'm not getting in that thing."

The Chosen, in a flurry of flaxen hair and an innocent grin, happily took Raine's hand and began urging her down the dock. "It looks fun! Come on, let's get in!"

Genis appeared beside his sister, a beaming bundle of youthful energy. "Yeah, Raine! Come on!"

The Professor opened her mouth; the sound that came out was nearly inhuman, a sort of 'ahh' mixed with a guttural 'augh.'

Lloyd covered a disbelieving, snorting laugh with one hand. "'Ahh'? Professor Sage, are you _that_ afraid of water?"

"I… I was just starting to say…" Here, Raine slapped a painful smile onto her greenish, hesitant face. "'Ahh, this should be fun!'" Then, with steadfast steps, she approached one of the washtubs and stared down at it. Everyone watched intently. Eventually, she took in a long, bracing breath and hovered one foot over the dock and gradually into the tub. She bit back a curse and forced her other foot to follow - and before she knew it, Raine was standing proudly within the washtub, her chest puffed out, head inclined, slim shoulders strained back. Her hand reached out to grasp the tub's edge, but she didn't falter one bit. She tried to manage a look back at her companions, but a hateful wave knocked her askew; she ended up once again focusing onward with bitter resignation.

"Let's go," she commanded.

Lloyd cleared his throat and shrugged. "Um… sure." Kratos huffed his own version of either approval or its opposite; Lloyd hadn't quite figured out which was which yet.

Each 'boat' had its own functional - while rather archaic - paddle system, which was little more than a wooden oar strapped to one side of the tub with a series of crossed ropes. It did the trick, however strange. Lloyd flung his oar back and forth enthusiastically, kicking up sea water in a sputtering splash. He shot out in front of the others, grinning at the distant shore with all the swashbuckling glory of a seaworthy pirate.

Genis had to shield his face from the flying water with one arm while the other swayed the oar; the tub itself was nearly as tall as him, and it took most of his body weight to produce any purposeful forward movement. Colette didn't really understand the concept, but watched the others and mimicked them successfully enough after making a few listless, accidental circles. Just beside Lloyd floated Sara, matching his pace (and enthusiasm), and Raine brought up the rear, her slow, steady oar beats keeping the tub mercifully under control. Kratos, thankfully, was in front of her, and wanted no part of the racing shenanigans that the others seemed helpless to ignore. His wake was calm, and she focused on the back of his burgundy head and cloaked shoulders instead of wondering how deep the water below her feet was, or what kinds of creatures were waiting in the depths, or…

Raine realized suddenly that he'd turned to look at her. His expression was unreadable, though if she'd been a bit closer, she probably would've picked up on just the subtlest undertones of amusement.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine. Just… just fine."

"...Hmm."

Twenty minutes later, that distant shore had materialized into a solid, sandy reality. A similarly-cheerful attendant waited for them on the island's dock - seriously, what about this seemingly mundane job made everyone so _happy?_ \- and helped moor the tubs to each post.

Raine wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry uncontrollably. "We've… finally arrived…"

Colette's white boots, while a little soggy, excitedly bounced up and down on the dock's salty wooden surface. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

"Yeah!" Genis took one edge of his tunic and squeezed it, sending drops pittering beside his feet. "Sea water came in and I thought I was going to sink!"

Lloyd approached Raine, who still hadn't managed to leave her tub yet, and held out one hand with a sympathetic smile. "Here, Professor…"

"Ah, right." She tried to hide her gratitude as she grasped it and pulled herself onto solid ground once more. "Thank you."

Kratos was glaring at his washtub like he were deciding whether he wanted another go-round or to hack it into bits with his sword. "...That was a rare experience."

"Rare," Sara repeated, biting her lip. "Yeah, that's a good word for it."

The end of the dock opened into a rocky, natural outcropping of dirt and glassy obsidian stones, many of which had grown into the size of a man or far larger. The air tasted warm and humid and vibrated with spicy energy, like the earth itself couldn't be contained and seeped up into the very atmosphere. As the Chosen's group continued down the path and rounded a stony corner, what appeared before them was a sight to behold: a gash had been torn through the ground, deep and jagged. It bubbled with foreboding, steaming water; they almost had to shield their faces from the sudden gush of immense heat. On its far side rose a small outcrop of rock - not tall enough to be considered a mountain, but definitely too small to be a mere hill. The geyser itself was surrounded on its westernmost side by a wooden fence, at which a handful of tourists stood, brochures in hand, with similarly soggy boots and shirts.

"Wow," Lloyd marveled. "So this is the geyser…"

"Then the statue has to be close by, right?" Genis asked.

Colette trotted forward, her long hair fluttering behind her in wisps of gold. "I think I see it!" She pointed through the steam to the geyser's far edge. "Is… is that it?"

Along the rocky wall was a humanoid shape - it had wedged itself between a pair of triangular rocks, and sat bolt upright, as if awaiting rescue. A head poked out between the rocks, along with a pair of stone wings peeking behind each edge. Most importantly, the statue donned a halo, which, though difficult to spot in the distance, sparkled with each drop of sunlight as only diamond could.

"It has to be," Raine said. Her face was flushed from either the heat or the hope of success. "And it's right where that priest said it would be: next to the bridge." Fastened to both the rocky hillside and the earth below their feet stretched said bridge: merely lengths of rope supporting a series of wooden planks. It led up and over the geyser, and into the stone itself, though whatever passage had once been opened at its end now looked cut off and without access.

The Chosen's face tensed in thought. "Hmm…"

Kratos noticed this instantly. "What is it, Chosen?"

"Over there…" Colette gestured to the end of the bridge, on which was perched a small stone dais. "That sign, over on that lookout platform…"

"What about the sign?"

"It looks kind of familiar…" She managed a slightly embarrassed smile. "Maybe it's just my imagination."

"Well, we've gotta get the statue before anything else, right?" Lloyd offered, grinning confidently. He tilted his head towards the geyser behind them just as it bubbled and sizzled. "Okay, Sara, do your thing."

She nodded, and stepped up towards the rocky beach's far edge. The toes of her boots dangled over it, above the swirling, frothing sea. "I hope these tourists like surprises…"

A handful of quiet muttered words: " _Venite ad me amice._ "

Lloyd's face became alight with curiosity as he glanced at Colette. "What's she saying this time?"

The girl smiled proudly. "'Come to me, my friend."

After a few moments, the steady steam of the geyser fluttered and shifted, sent to and fro by great, powerful wingbeats. All other observers looked on in varying states of confusion and splendor. Within moments, Iona made herself known to all. She touched down just behind Sara, easing her long claws into the earth before settling her heels. Her front paws followed soon after; as her wings folded against her sides, the last of the sandy ground whipped and settled. Sara extended one hand to Iona's large horned head, and the dragon met it with an affectionate press of her chin.

"Welcome back. It's good to see you, girl." Sara held one hand beneath the dragon's jaw while the other pointed towards the geyser. "We need your help getting that thingy over there."

Raine's indigo eyes thinned. "...'Thingy'? Is that an ancient language term?"

"I… don't think so," Colette managed, frowning indecisively.

Iona seemed perfectly content with this request. She turned towards the geyser, and clambered over the wooden fence and into the boiling water, much to the chagrin and surprise of both the remaining tourists and dock attendants. She sunk into its waters comfortably, and turned over onto her back, exposing her golden underscales as her wings flared and relaxed out wide beside her as makeshift flotation devices. She released a breath of smoke into the moist air. Her clawed hands settled onto her belly.

Sara's lips pursed as her fists went to her hips. "Ahem. _Not_ what I was talking about."

Iona raised her head and stuck her long, forked tongue out between razor-sharp, deadly teeth.

" _Now,_ " Sara commanded with an authoritative fling of one arm.

The dragon growled, a soft sound echoing in the base of her long throat. She relented, and with a great splash turned over onto her stomach. Her snout extended and hovered just before the statue's head. Iona grasped it impossibly gently in between her front teeth, and her head lifted as she turned around to face Sara, who stood still with an awaiting hand. The statue dropped into her grasp, though Iona continued giving her a perturbed eye that someone unacquainted to dragon behavior would find utterly terrifying.

"You can go back in now," Sara sighed, waving at Iona dismissively. "Thanks for your help, girl." And with that, the beast scrambled back into the scalding water, diving to the bottom, her spiked tail sticking straight into the air and waving happily.

Sara rolled her eyes as she stuffed the statue into her pack with a carelessness that made Raine flinch repeatedly. "Weirdo. Anyway, we've got it. Now what?"

"I suppose we should head back to that old guy," Lloyd said, though rather distastefully.

"Um…" Colette's hands fidgeted nervously at her sleeves. Her eyes were still locked onto the geyser's far side, even over Iona's persistent splashing. "Could we… take a closer look at that? I just feel drawn to it for some reason."

No further questions were asked. Colette led the way, and they all eased across the swaying bridge, until that small dais stood waiting before the Chosen's feet.

Lloyd's face glowed with recognition. He held one finger thoughtfully to his chin. "Hey, isn't that a whatchamacallit stone?"

Kratos sighed. "An _oracle_ stone."

"Yeah, that!"

Colette traced her dainty fingers along its smooth, damp edge. "That must be why it looks familiar."

Joy burst forth on Raine's face. "So, this must be the Seal of Water!"

"Awesome!" Genis exclaimed, pointing fervently to the dais. "Let's hurry on inside! Come on, Colette!"

"Okay, then!" The Chosen raised a hand palm-down before her breast. "I'll try putting my hand on the stone. Here we go…"

Her fingers settled into the slab's hand-shaped depression like it had been meant for her touch. The geometric runes along its lateral edges suddenly glowed, and the whole stone itself began to descend with an earthy grinding noise, until it met evenly with its outer housing.

Just before them, that previously-sealed passage began to scrape open. A massive slice of rock retreated into the stone beside it, revealing a dark, humid tunnel that smelled of ocean and scorched sand.

Each of the Chosen's group stared at it for a moment in utter disbelief. A steady warm breeze issued forth from the tunnel's entrance, and Colette stepped into it, her sapphire eyes giant, her pale face steely.

"It's here," she breathed, setting her jaw. "The next trial awaits inside."


	14. Lumen (Light)

Chapter Fourteen

 _Lumen_

* * *

Sheena Fujibayashi wanted to know who on this side would ever allow _washtubs_ to exist as an accepted mode of transportation.

Her task was to follow the Chosen to whatever end and eliminate her without incident. That whole last part hadn't exactly ended up like she'd planned… what with the Chosen's annoyingly strong companions, and the weird, completely stupid fact that the Chosen herself seemed bent on forming a friendship with Sheena on the sole basis of a _death wish_. And now Sheena had ended up here, at the Thoda Geyser, half-soaked and salty from both seawater and a nervous sweat. Mainly the former. But enough of the latter to still be plenty humiliating.

She'd managed to stay hidden thus far behind one of those giant black rocks just beside the geyser. Her hair and leggings matched this perfectly, for which she was thankful. The only twinge of fear she'd felt was when the tall, orange-haired woman had stepped away from the others and towards the sea - towards Sheena, unbeknownst to her - and had somehow called a _dragon_ from literally thin air.

Said dragon remained casually floating in the geyser's boiling water, flapping around in it like a toddler in a pool. It seemed distracted enough. Sheena had watched the Chosen disappear down that rocky tunnel across the bridge, so that's where she ran, head down, feet swift. She made it halfway across that bridge before the infernal dragon raised its head from the water, droplets trickling from its horns and spines and sparkling diamondlike in the sun.

Sheena froze in place. The bridge beneath her feet continued to sway, and she gripped its rope railing in a futile attempt to steady it. The dragon sniffed at her, inhaling giant lungfuls of steam through scaly, gaping nostrils. It inched its snout closer. Sheena paled, hazel eyes wide, mouth pulled into a queasy frown. This was _not_ something she'd planned for…

She stepped forward gingerly; the dragon's head followed her. The mouth of that tunnel was now maybe three or four bounding steps away. She took in a steeling breath, tensing and readying her muscles, frantically drawing on critically-low reserves of courage - and dashed forward.

...At precisely the same time, Iona took it upon herself to exit the geyser in search of a place to nap. Sheena, who she obviously had determined was no threat at all, skidded to a halt and barely avoided crashing into Iona's thigh. The dragon curled up into a purple ball just before the tunnel's opening, wings tucked, her head resting on clawed hands, and gave Sheena one final look of utter disinterest before promptly falling asleep.

Though she'd been raised to never curse, words that would've earned her several childhood spankings flew through Sheena's thoughts and almost off of her tongue. Her right hand went to her left shoulder before slicing out in front of her. "Corrine!"

At the tips of her fingers formed a brief cloud of smoke. As it cleared, that same small, fox-looking creature with the poofy blue tails appeared, settling itself onto dainty paws. Its dark brown mane bristled and its large triangular ears perked straight up. It attempted to crunch its rather adorable face into a menacing snarl - what came from its throat, however, was anything but.

Iona opened one eye, the width of which nearly matched that of Corrine's whole head. The very edge of her lips twitched up into a… wait. Sheena shook her head, because there was no _way_ that dragon was actually _smiling_ at her. The eye closed again, and that was that.

"Damn," she hissed. "I'll get you next time for sure…"

Scowling, she turned away. Corrine hopped back onto her shoulder. The small creature growled as he stared back at Iona, and spoke in an equally-adorable, high-pitched voice. "Why does this lazy dragon block the way?"

"Next time," Sheena repeated stonily. "We'll get it right next time."

"Does this mean we get to ride the fun boats again?"

* * *

Raine's glowing staff led their way. The only other light source seemed to be far in the distance, where the tunnel surrounding them yawned into a larger, open area. Water slithered endlessly down each rocky wall and dripped from the stone arching above their heads; this place was unbearably humid, and just warm enough to make simple breathing feel laborious. Lloyd was already sweating. He dragged the back of his arm across his forehead, but his sleeve had absorbed enough moisture from the air that it merely spread the sweat across his skin. He found himself longing for the dry heat of Triet's deserts.

"I feel like I'm swimming through the air," he muttered. He glanced at Kratos, who walked beside and just slightly ahead of him, and whose flawless skin was somehow bereft of any moisture. Of _course._ He didn't sweat in deserts, he didn't sweat in geyser tunnels… maybe he had some weird disease that made him incapable of-

"It looks like that girl didn't make it inside," the mercenary said suddenly.

Lloyd blinked. "What girl?"

This earned him a disappointed garnet glare. "That assassin. The one after the Chosen."

"She followed us?!" Lloyd fumbled for his blades in frantic discord.

Kratos quirked one thin, cynical eyebrow. "You didn't notice?"

"I…" The heat was making his face flush. Yeah, definitely the heat. "I was busy thinking and stuff."

"Never let your guard down, _ever_." Kratos inclined his chin, his eyes narrowing, his austere face eerily half-hidden by bouncing shadows. "Assuming you want to survive."

Lloyd rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. This sort of statement a few days ago would've intimidated him, or probably made him angry - but now he just kind of found it ridiculous. "Oh yes, of course." He shoved his sleeves up to his elbows and threw his arms out to his sides. "You're _sooooo_ perfect. You'd _never_ screw up!"

Silence.

And… more silence.

Not a retort, not a bitter scolding… Lloyd's uneasiness doubled with each passing second. It turned out that this was actually _worse_ than anything else. The only sound in this foreboding tunnel was the steady, wet chorus of scrapes as their feet moved along the rock. Lloyd wondered if the half-terrified stare he kept giving Kratos would bore holes in the side of the man's face.

Finally, with an uncanny softness, Kratos spoke: "Even I make mistakes. I made a terrible one…"

Lloyd's throat worked. His wispy head cocked to one side like a dog hearing some high-pitched sound. "...What?"

"Nothing," came an acrid reply. "I shouldn't have said that. ...Forgive me." And with that, Kratos strode swiftly ahead and into the damp darkness.

"Forgive you? _What_?" Lloyd echoed, his face twisted in incertitude. "You don't make any sense sometimes…"

Ahead of them, squarely between Raine and Sara, Colette headed into the unknown fearlessly. Her small steps were nearly twice as quick as those of the women beside her. The Professor carried an air of clinical interest - after all, this was a place that hardly any others had seen. Who knew what wonders awaited in its caverns and hallways? What if its features had never properly been documented before? How else would the world _know?_

Through muted light, Sara's umber eyes kept flicking to the Chosen. "Everything okay, Colette?"

"Yes." Colette cleared her throat and nodded. "I feel that we are going the right way."

Sara's normally recalcitrant hair was now matted down with moisture and incessant passes of her hand. Impatiently, she gathered the spare locks at her jaw and shoulders and pulled them up into a fuzzy orange bun. "I've been to this island dozens of times, but never knew this was here. Weird."

"Look," Genis announced abruptly, pointing one small finger ahead. "The tunnel is ending…"

And he was right. A grand chamber stood before them - two stories of stone, one leading across a cliff and to the right, and the lower leading straight ahead. Thrumming lights pulsed in each corner of the slick room; not from any manmade source, but a collection of bioluminscent fungi arranged in pale-green spheres.

"Incredible," Raine exhaled. Her silvery hair caught and held the light's seafoam glow. "I've never seen anything like this…"

"...We must release the seal first," Kratos reminded them all. He gestured to the lower path. "If this ruin is anything like Triet, the seal should be through there."

"So…" Sara gave the Chosen's group a curious glance. "What was the last seal like?"

"The last seal was the Seal of Fire," Raine offered. "It was largely underground, and its internal structure appeared much more manmade." She paused, swallowing, remembering that creature's flaming fur and burning throat. "Its guardian was… rather challenging. According to Remiel, each seal will only increase in difficulty."

"Oh, good." Sara smiled dryly, one canine tooth peeking over her lower lip. "The Journey of Regeneration… I was afraid this'd be _easy_ or something."

"Lloyd almost melted last time," Genis said factually.

Lloyd puffed out his chest and sent his friend a stinging glare. "I was trying to save _you,_ Genis…"

"At least you have actual swords now, instead of sticks."

Lloyd jangled his blades in their scabbards. "Yeah. These should work much better." He half-frowned over at Kratos. "Thanks again for finding them for me."

"Indeed." The mercenary returned Lloyd's expression. "Let us hope you will be more competent at protecting the Chosen this time."

Lloyd wanted to retort, but Colette's eyes suddenly flew open wide. "I hear something…" After a few seconds, they all did: a slick, flopping sound from the shadows of the chamber's far corner.

Swords flew out and into waiting hands. Claws extended. A kendama and staff were both poised and ready.

Tentacles crawled from the darkness, giant and slimy, followed by the monster's bloated, barrel-shaped body. Its eyes - or what Lloyd _guessed_ were its eyes - were countless, dotting random places all over its ochre, jelly-like skin, blinking and gleaming in between more quivering tentacles. It was tall, six feet at least, and kept making a low gurgling noise from somewhere in its innards.

Lloyd's nose wrinkled. "What is _that?"_ He kept trying to think of how best to fight it, but with those armlike things all the way around and its weird skin, he wondered how he'd even inflict a wound…

Before anyone could answer, it _shrieked_ horribly, somehow - and lunged straight for Colette, all of its dozens of tentacles pointed straight at her. Raine reacted instantly, using herself and a barrier of magic as a shield, which it slammed into with all of its weight, nearly knocking her off her feet. A flash of a red ball, a shouted spell - " _Thunder Blade!"_ \- and Genis cast his magic forth. The humid air above the monster's head sputtered and crackled with lightning that slammed mercilessly down as a biting, slicing blade of pure electricity. It cried out again, its tentacles wiggling frantically, and backed away in a rush.

"Makes sense," Genis smirked, the ball of his kendama settling easily onto its top spike. "Water conducts electricity…"

Apparently alerted by their companion's cries of pain, two more of the creatures burst forth from the shadows, leaving trails of wet slime in their wake. Kratos dashed ahead, his sword glowing with a hue of lavender light and held waiting at his side - at the last moment, he thrust it forward and cleanly through the monster's jiggling midriff. " _Lightning Blade!"_ The arte's namesake seared across its skin, emanating from his sword, and killing it instantly. Kratos reclaimed his blade a split second later, leaping gracefully out of reach of its swaying tendrils.

Lloyd couldn't use any lightning spells, but… plain old physical contact had to do _some_ good, right? He charged the third one: " _Tiger Blade!"_ It was left with two deep gashes that… healed themselves instantly? Lloyd growled. "Great…"

Suddenly, concentric rings of pure white light surrounded its lumpy frame. Raine raised her beaming staff high: "Light! _Photon!"_ And those rings converged, contracting and cutting through it in a flash. It gurgled again, then pieces of it slumped one-by-one to the floor, still wiggling. Lloyd didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or throw up.

"How'd you like _that?"_ Raine said silkily, her face uncharacteristically alight with battle-born excitement.

Genis grinned at his sister overtop his swinging kendama. "Good job, Sis!" He turned to the first monster, which still fought to reach them with its remaining strength, and once again called forth his lightning. This time, it fell over with a sickening slurp.

"Yep, it's cool, guys," Sara started, stretching one arm languidly in the air. "I _totally_ got this."

Genis bristled and scowled at her. "You didn't do anything!"

"What, you didn't see me?" She smirked and sliced her hand forward with a _whoooosh-_ ing sound effect. "That's just because I'm so _fast_."

"Nuh-uh! It was all me, and Sis, and-"

"She's just trying to make you mad, Genis," Lloyd said, hiding a wry smile with one hand.

"Well, it's working! And _you_ didn't do anything either, Lloyd!"

" _At any rate_ ," Kratos cut in tersely, one eye doing that impatient, foreboding flinch. "Let us continue on before more monsters appear." He led the way briskly towards the chamber's connecting tunnel. Genis continued staring seethingly at Sara's back as the rest of them followed.

Lloyd noticed Colette still hadn't spoken. The dark stockings on her thin legs made them nearly invisible, like she were a holy spectre floating on air. He trotted up beside her, and even in the muted light from the Professor's staff, he could see the burdened expression she wore. "Are you okay?"

Her voice was barely above a solemn whisper. "We're just… going to have to keep killing them, aren't we?"

Lloyd's stomach clenched. He swallowed with a suddenly dry throat and nodded gravely. "...I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"For what?"

"Making everyone come all the way here." Her shoulders slumped under a crushing, invisible weight. "This place is terrible. I'm always putting you in danger…"

Lloyd stopped walking. He put one hand gently on Colette's arm and turned her to face him. His other hand did the same, with tender insistence, until her sapphire eyes finally raised to his. He stared into them resolutely and gave her tiny frame a quick shake. "Stop apologizing, you dork. We're all here because we want to be." He grinned and thumbed at his chest. "Especially me. We're your friends. Remember that, okay?"

Tears welled unstoppably. She breathed a small laugh and wiped at her face with one delicate finger. "Okay. You're right."

"Now come on!" He started forward once again, sliding his hand down to hers and giving it an encouraging tug. "Let's get you to the seal, so you can be one step closer to becoming an angel."

"...Thank you, Lloyd."

* * *

Lloyd couldn't decide if excitement or exhaustion were a more appropriate reaction to their next challenge. This was strange… he was rather used to an endless well of energy. Maybe he just needed some mana? He poked around in his pack with one hand, holding his swords in the other, and eventually withdrew a handful of gels. He popped an orange one into his mouth, placing the rest of them in the pocket at his hip. Sure enough, within seconds he felt a welcome, warm rush of energy, like he were being lifted up by unseen hands.

Several monster battles had hindered their progress so far - but finally, a bit of hope. This new room proved twice as tall as the one they'd started from. Its top floor looked made from a beige sandstone composite, but with obviously manmade railings all along its southern edges. Below this floor flowed a neverending river, fed by the earth itself with glittering, crystal-clear water. As a result, the temperature dropped significantly; each one of the Chosen's group breathed a long sigh of relief.

A pair of stone pillars stood on the highest floor's far edge, made of that same light brown stone but each bearing a rather misplaced carving of roaring flames. The Professor inspected each one carefully, one slender hand perched pensively against her chin. "How odd, that a depiction of fire would be present at the Seal of Water…"

Genis was a miniature version of his sister, complete with a scrutinizing glare and chin-stroking hand. "Maybe we need to use the sorcerer's ring? Lloyd?"

At the mention of his name, Lloyd immediately straightened his spine and shot upright from his curious position over edge's railing. "Huh?"

"There's a torch beside these carvings," Raine began emphatically. "Use the sorcerer's ring to set them alight."

"A-alright…" Lloyd approached the closest torch and held his right fist out before him. From the base of his middle finger sputtered a small line of flame that caught and ignited the mysteriously-dry tinder in the torch's bowl. "Like that?"

"Yes," Raine commanded, and approached the torch's twin. "Now this one." Lloyd repeated the action. Afterwards, they all stood still and expectant, glancing nervously about the echoing chamber.

A great rumbling sounded beneath their feet. The platform shook, sending smalls streams of sand trickling down to the water below. Those solid stones that formed the suspended floor now seemed to shift with every movement, just slightly enough to be extremely unnerving…

"Let us leave," Kratos commanded roughly. Though he didn't run - really, they'd never seen him in an actual hurry - his steps were quick and fervent as he headed once again for the rocky, solid tunnel they'd emerged from. The Chosen followed him first, Lloyd swiftly at her heels, and Raine, Genis and Sara immediately behind them.

On the bottom floor, it became clear what had caused that earth-shaking noise: a new path had opened, gaping and dark, but lined with ornate columns of marble and stone. At its entrance was carved a pagoda-style roof, bright white and shining compared to the surrounding rock.

Colette's wings shimmered and buzzed within her skin. "The seal… it's this way."

Raine glanced around grimly at each of them. "Is everyone prepared?" She was met with silence and nodding heads. "...Alright. There's no turning back now." Her hand settled onto Colette's thin shoulder. "Lead the way. We're right behind you."

The Chosen continued forward silently. Her heart thundered in her chest. Genis walked beside her, and Lloyd on her opposite, blades out, shining and ready. Just behind her stalked Kratos, his gleaming sword held stiffly at his hip, and at his back walked Raine and Sara, their eyes furtive and tense.

So many wonderful companions… Colette wondered briefly how she'd ever become so lucky. Gratitude and purpose flooded her and helped her feet shuffle numbly forward.

Just ahead stood one final pathway, beset on both sides by regal, pearlescent stone columns and topped by a similar pagoda-style roof. At its terminus was a stage-like dais, made of a strange, smooth substance unlike any others found in the cavern thus far. On each of its circular ledges glowed a thrumming green light much like the one they'd been met with near the entrance.

"This place is all dark and humid," Lloyd grumbled. "Let's hurry up and get out of here."

Kratos stepped up beside him with thinned eyes. "We must release the seal first."

Lloyd barely contained the growl lingering at the back of his throat. "I know that…"

A great presence suddenly exploded into existence before them; though invisible, Genis and his sister were well and painfully aware of it. They both took a reflexive step backwards, with Raine extending her staff and Genis halfway hiding his eyes with one arm.

"I feel mana welling up…" He squinted forward at the center of the chamber's stage. "It's the same as the Seal of Fire." Colette nodded, pressing tentative fingertips to the glowing Cruxis Crystal at the base of her throat.

Tiny dots of light manifested from thin air and gathered at the dais' center. This light grew, expanding beautifully in a blinding sphere - then it burst, sending sparks twinkling in every direction and settling gently onto the stone floor. In its place emerged three figures: the largest, a giant, fishlike monster, had a finned tail that swam through nothingness as easily as its waterlogged cousin would. It rose up grandly, lithe and deadly, nearly twelve feet tall, with skin the colors of an angry ocean. Both of its arms ended in what looked like a cannon, almost as if a crab's claws had been melded and reformed into a modern-day, deadly weapon. From its round head jutted three long, elegant fins, one on top and two extending back from each of its temples. Its eyes were wide and pupilless, though it blinked every few seconds with a strange set of eyelids that swished from the bridge of its small nose towards its finlike ears.

The guardian was flanked on either side by a smaller, seemingly younger version of itself, with flesh of a lighter, sky blue. Their glistening skin rippled and twitched in the dim light. Lloyd stared in awe. He wondered if they'd be sticky to the touch, or more slimy, like a frog… He'd seen plenty of monsters by now, but none quite like this. They looked disturbingly intelligent, and carried an air of nobility that he was sure hid immense power.

"It's an Adulocia," Colette breathed, her eyes wide with wondrous fear. "I've only ever read about them…"

"Yes," Raine agreed tensely. "And those smaller ones are called Amphitras."

"I thought you said _guardian_ ," Sara muttered. "Like, singular. There's _three_ of these guys."

"I would imagine this is what Remiel meant by increasing difficulty…"

"We will all have to take part," Kratos said, though his eyes never left their enemy. "Genis, Lloyd. Take out the smaller ones first. Raine, focus on healing. The Chosen will attack only from a distance. Sara, keep the large one distracted until Lloyd and I can assist you."

As soon as the last word left his mouth, the Adulocia bellowed - a deep, soulful sound that wailed and sank low before ending in a high-pitched, screeching cry. It threw each of its arms forward, and its minions charged, streaking through the humid air and leaving trails of glimmering vapor behind their swaying tails. Kratos and Lloyd met them head-on, clashing blades against those clawlike arms, striking and parrying repeatedly and dodging jets of scalding, bubbling water. The Chosen's wings unfurled; behind them all, she rose a few inches into the air, the stone ground beneath her glowing brightly.

The Adulocia itself remained eerily motionless. Its head flicked around to each of them, as if studying their movements. Sara charged for it, flames held ready in each palm, but it simply watched… until finally it took aim and swiftly fired a torrential rope of water. She sprung off to the side, barely safe; the monster countered this with a swipe of its tail that knocked her to her feet and across the floor. But Genis' spell was ready - lightning arced from disembodied thunderclouds and sizzled across its skin. It cried sharply, but seemed undeterred and began casting a spell of its own.

Sara growled and got to her feet. "No, you don't…" Her Exspheres gleamed. " _Swift Flight!"_ She leapt at its back, but it turned at the last moment and swatted at her with one arm; only her right hand made contact, leaving yard-long gashes below its shoulder. It cried again, but began its spell once more.

Lloyd's arms ached and he was soaked from head to toe. He fumbled through his pocket, hoping the gels inside hadn't dissolved - thankfully they were intact, and he popped one of each into his mouth. The respite was brief - though smaller than him, the creature was formidable and its attacks quick. He darted to one side, blades low and waiting. It snarled and followed. Lloyd grit his teeth and lunged forward with a flurry of thrusts: " _Sword Rain!"_ Each one made contact; it staggered backwards, dripping a strange bluish blood onto the wet ground. Kratos had given its twin similar injuries, though their next blows were razorlike slashes of wind from Genis's spell: " _Air Thrust!"_

Raine's healing magic helped Sara stand. She glared at the Adulocia and charged once more, this time sliding beneath it and raking her claws along its underbelly. The spell on the tips of its fins splintered and vanished. Its head thrashed violently as it whipped around to face Sara - and its claw shot out, grabbing her arm and jerking her wildly into the air.

Sara felt her shoulder rip free of its socket. The monster's claw crushed down unbearably just above her wrist. She screamed, frantically swiping at its skin with her free hand, hearing the bones in her arm snap one by one. It held on with dauntless persistence.

Lloyd, Genis, and Kratos were all involved with the thing's minions - Colette noticed it first. Her face paled, then flashed with rare resolution as her chakrams slid into her hands. The Chosen streaked forward, a blur of magenta, holy white and gold. " _Ray Thrust!"_ Both chakrams slammed into the monster's face, slicing open its cheek and one of its temporal fins clean off. It dropped Sara instantly, who landed hard in a bleeding pile on the ground, cradling her mangled arm.

"Professor!" Colette shouted, flitting away and towards her previous position. "Sara needs help!"

"On it," Raine assured. She reached out with her magic while, in front of her, Lloyd and Kratos came near to finishing off each of the smaller Amphitras. Raine's stomach churned; she always received a sort of 'feedback' from her spells when she healed another person, and Sara's injuries were brutal, a combination of torn ligaments and shattered bones that took all of the Professor's concentration to mend.

She did, though, in a matter of seconds. Sara dragged herself onto all fours, heaving for breath. The Adulocia seemed unaware of her recovery and turned its back to her, focusing instead across the room and on Colette. Its wide, empty eyes flooded with raving darkness. Magic poured from its skin as it began another spell. The ground shook. Genis inhaled and lashed out with his lightning - it did nothing. Colette stood still, a tiny doll, paralyzed by its piercing glare.

Lloyd struck at the Amphitra with all his remaining might. "Sara!" He shouted frantically in between attacks and dodges. "Get up! Stop its spell!"

She didn't move. The ground's shaking doubled in intensity, making it difficult to stand. Her bangs hid her eyes as she stared down at her hands. One by one, each of her claws slowly sliced into the stone. Surrounding her hunched frame, the air buzzed as if caught in waves of heat.

"Sara!" The Adulocia raised its arm. Water bubbled up beneath it, snaking into the air. "Come on, get _up!"_ Finally, Lloyd delivered the finishing blow to his enemy; Kratos did the same in-synch. Sara's hands flew to her head. It shook side to side violently, a fiery orange smear against layers of cool blue.

Kratos' eyes widened. Shadows flickered across the room, dancing mischievously from one corner to another. He sensed a terrible, somehow familiar darkness. "Is that…"

Before he had a chance to finish, Sara exploded forward, one hand stretched out and pointed towards the monster. Her claws sliced cleanly through its spine, gnashing through its chest and finally bursting through its sternum in a shower of oily blue blood.

" _Now!"_

Lloyd and Kratos flew forward as one. They approached the debilitated monster at a sprint, and crossed their blades across its neck a pair of long, livid slashes.

The Adulocia uttered one final cry. Its skin disintegrated piece by piece, revealing beaming white light, until its entire being faded into a mere shimmering gleam.

As it disappeared, that unnerving rumbling of the earth eased. Noises of battle and struggle softened. The only sound was the steady, soothing trickling of pure, crystalline water and the group's collective sigh of relief.

Sara immediately turned away from the others. Her entire right arm was coated in the creature's blood; she headed towards the flowing river with strange, stilted steps. She knelt down, cupping water up and onto her arm repeatedly with her opposing hand. The blood washed away slowly, trailing a murky, obsidian streak downstream.

"Is everyone alright?" Raine asked insistently. She received a chorus of silent nods.

"We did it," Genis breathed, his kendama dangling limply at his hip. "Somehow…"

Lloyd trotted up to Colette. "You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"No," the girl mumbled. She met Lloyd's gaze and smiled. "I'm just fine. You were amazing, Lloyd. Thank you."

Lloyd grinned. "Nah, it was nothing!" He was about to say more, but footsteps from his left silenced him. Sara slowly approached them, her head low, her arms hanging limp at her sides. She walked straight past Raine and her brother, Kratos, and then Lloyd, until she stopped before Colette, who stared up at her, stunned.

In a lunge, she gathered the Chosen into her arms and hugged her tight.

"I'm sorry," she muttered against the girl's flaxen head. "Please tell me you're okay."

Colette nodded furiously. She tried to return the hug, but her arms were pinned at her sides. Her pale face flashed cherry red. "I-I'm fine! Really! Please, don't worry, Mrs. Sara…"

"Alright." Sara let go. Her shoulders slid back and squared. She let out a sigh and managed a broad, though tired smile. "Good. That's what matters."

Kratos returned his sword to its scabbard. His burgundy head tilted in the direction of the dais. "...Chosen One. It is time."

Colette's throat went suddenly dry. She swallowed hard, but nodded again. "...Yes."

In the middle of that circular dais - where its guardians had emerged from - now descended a column of heavenly blue light. The Chosen approached it first, followed by each of her companions, their footfalls an echoing chorus.

After a moment, that otherworldly light condensed and surged out in all directions, revealing Remiel once more, in all of his exquisite, angelic grace. His great wings fluttered softly, halting his descent into the mortal realm, their flawless ivory feathers untouched by any earthly filth.

Colette's chest felt like it might burst. Was this excitement? Nervousness? A bit of both? She was still entirely unsure. Remiel held his hands to his sides as if in welcome to the Chosen and her companions. Though this was the second time they'd laid eyes on a legitimate angel, Lloyd and the others found it no less sublime. He and Genis wore the same expression of utter fascination, jaws dropped, eyes wide.

All of this was brand new to Sara, however. She gawked up at Remiel, though she felt rather unworthy to even witness him at all. Everyone's talk of Martel and the Church had never interested her; honestly, for the longest time, she'd found believers just plain crazy.

But each time she blinked, Remiel still existed.

"That's an angel," she said factually.

Kratos gave her a curious glance. "...Indeed."

"No, really." She looked him straight in the eye and pointed to Remiel. "That's an _angel._ "

He stared back at her tediously. "Did you not understand the purpose of this journey?"

"Yeah, but…" Her hand dropped to her side. Her voice softened and filled with childlike wonderment. "It's _real…"_

"Chosen of Regeneration…" Remiel began, the corners of his mouth just barely pulling into a frown. "You have done well in reaching this far. Now, offer your prayers at the altar."

Colette stepped forward without the slightest bit of hesitation. "Yes." She halted before the altar and knelt, her clasped hands raised and pressed to her forehead. Her wings evanesced, glassy and ephemeral, so very different than those of her father.

"Oh, Goddess Martel, great protector and nurturer of the earth… grant me thy strength!"

And she began to rise, her knees and toes lifting from the ground. Her tiny body hung suspended in midair and slowly straightened, until her chin tilted heavenward and her arms and hair swayed out beside her. Lloyd's heart pounded, a deafening thunder rumbling beneath his ribs. This was really happening again. He began to smile, though beneath it he felt indescribably nervous.

The Cruxis Crystal at the base of Colette's neck shone brilliantly. Its light overtook her frame, wreathing her in a mana-drenched shine. Her wings fluttered, raining starlight beneath her feet.

"You have done well, Chosen One, Colette," Remiel intoned. With each word, his expression seemed to harden and his voice grew frost. "The second seal is now released."

Colette nodded as her feet once again touched the earth. "Thank you, Father."

"...Accept this blessing from Cruxis." Remiel poised his hand above the girl's head. "I hereby grant you additional angelic power."

Colette's eyes searched Remiel's chiseled, wintry face desperately. She opened her mouth; only timorous breath rushed out. Swallowing, she tried once more: "Ah… Father?"

"The next seal lies far to the north," Remiel continued, "in a place that gazes upon the end. Offer your prayers at the altar in that distant land."

"Father," the Chosen managed. Her hands wrung together nervously at her lap. "Have I done something to displease you?"

The angel shook his head slowly, his frown deepening. "...It matters not. All that is needed is for you to become an angel. I will be waiting for you at the next seal, Colette… my daughter."

A sunrise of hope rose on Colette's face. She smiled, her head lowering in prostration.

That otherworldly light reappeared. Remiel began to fade, his very being simply ceasing to exist. "Hurry and become a true angel. Do not disappoint me…" And in a shower of feathers, he was gone.

Silence blanketed the chamber. They all stared at the altar, individually processing everything that just passed.

Genis propped one hand on his hip and wrinkled his nose. "What's _with_ him? He always talks like he's so important…"

Raine's eyes bulged. A knifelike hand reflexively raised behind her. "Apologize to Colette!" Genis threw his arms out defensively, grimacing, his cheek already stinging at the mere memory of that wrathful hand…

Colette turned to them, though her eyes were trained on her boots. "It's alright. Father… Remiel really does sound like that." Her wings flickered and vanished entirely.

Lloyd swallowed. He wanted to say something comforting, but really had no idea where to start - so instead, he looked ahead to their next destination, where Colette might have the chance to see her father again. "Well, want to get going to the next seal?" His mouth twisted. "...Although he was confusing as usual."

"Stop complaining," Kratos grumbled, giving them his stiff back. He began striding forward and towards the exiting tunnel. "...Let's get moving."

Sara thrust one arm into the air. Her freckled face was still tinged with a blush of disbelief. "W- _Wait_ one damn second!"

The mercenary halted, though he didn't look happy about it.

Sara reached out and delicately took one of Colette's much smaller hands in her own. "I just wanted to say… that was awesome." She grinned joyously, and tugged on the girl's hand. "And _you're_ awesome. And, just… I'm glad I got to see that."

"Oh. Um, thanks," the Chosen squeaked. "I'm, uh, glad you think that."

Lloyd was grinning too. "Angels are pretty amazing, huh?"

"Yeah!" Sara agreed emphatically. Kratos continued onward, and - thankfully - this time they followed him. She continued to gesture before her epically. "Those wings, and all those sparkly lights, and the whole 'angelic powers' thing… Unbelievable."

"So…" Lloyd looked suddenly thoughtful. "How do you think they sleep with their wings?"

Sara blinked. "How do they… huh. That's a good question. Obviously, they can't lay on their backs…"

"Right? Maybe they sleep standing up…?"

Genis rolled his eyes and released a dejected sigh. "Oh, not _again_."


	15. Confortare (Courage)

Chapter Fifteen

 _Confortare_

* * *

 _The air is thin, s_ _hadows form and grin_

 _If I lose control,_ _I feed the beast within_

 _Cage me like an animal, a_ _crown with gems and gold_

 _Eat me like a cannibal, c_ _hase the neon throne_

 _Breathe in, breathe out,_

 _Let the human in_

* * *

"Uh…"

Lloyd stood before the cave's entrance. When they'd first passed through here hours ago, it had been wide open… and now, something large and rough completely blocked the way out. "What is this? What do we do now?"

Genis leaned forward and poked at the mysterious wall with one curious finger. The wall twitched. He yelled in surprise and recoiled, scrambling backwards. "I-it's alive!"

Sara's brow furrowed. "Wait a minute…" Her palm lit up and she extended it before her, just beside the wall. Its light revealed… royal purple scales. "I know that color. Iona!" From the other side of the entrance, they heard a low grumble. "Get up! Naptime's over!" Slowly, the wall shifted and formed a muscular hind leg that lumbered out of the way. They emerged into the late afternoon sun, squinting and shielding their eyes from the sudden transition.

Iona yawned, smoke idly trailing from her nostrils. Sara huffed a laugh. "Good nap, eh, girl? Now get outta here." With a parting nuzzle, the dragon once again disappeared into the sky.

They made their way back across the rope bridge and onto solid ground. Colette's steps seemed to slow one by one, until she stood still before them - and then, with wide eyes and a gasping mouth, she abruptly fell forward onto her hands and knees, golden hair surrounding her paling face in a curtain.

Lloyd tried to catch her, but was just a bit too late - so instead he rushed to her side, one arm slipping beneath her shoulders for support. She immediately sagged against his chest, her eyes squeezing shut, her delicate face crushed into a strained grimace. Although he hadn't exactly _remembered,_ Lloyd knew this would happen, but that didn't make dealing with it any less difficult. He couldn't really think of anything that made him more sick and hurt than seeing Colette suffer.

He swallowed hard and looked up at the others frantically. Raine dashed instantly to his side, one hand just overtop of Colette's heaving back. "We must let her rest immediately."

Kratos began glancing around the area with scrutinizing garnet eyes. "Time to set up camp, then."

Sara stepped forward but stopped herself, uncharacteristically unsure. Her fingers hovered nervously at her chin. "Does this happen every time?"

"It seems so, unfortunately," Raine said thinly. Her intense gaze centered on the Chosen's face. "Colette is going to have a difficult journey ahead of her. For the time being, I'm going to call this phenomenon 'Angel Toxicosis.'"

Just then, Colette forced open her eyes. It looked extremely strenuous for her to do so. She tried to sit up, and Lloyd gladly helped, but she quickly realized her place against his chest was far more manageable and returned there with a sigh.

Genis knelt in front of her, nibbling on his lower lip worriedly. "Colette, are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled, though the wavering in her voice sounded anything but. "It'll go away soon… I'm sorry for worrying everyone."

Lloyd shook his head and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Alright, that's enough. You're not allowed to apologize any more, okay?"

Colette smiled a little and breathed a laugh. "Okay. I'm sorry."

Lloyd rolled his eyes and his whole head with them. His temple ended up against her hair. He laughed too, hopelessly, but hugged her just a little bit tighter.

* * *

Camp sprawled out on the other side of the island, around the back of the geyser's stone spires and near the shore. Unlike the geyser's side, this area proved much less tourist-y and much more natural, with a few trees and soft grasses that gradually met and were swallowed by sandy beaches. And best of all - no 'boat' docks.

Night came quickly, and now that they had settled down for the first time all day, fatigue had too. Kratos had made dinner - a fish stew that Lloyd found rather disgusting, but ate nonetheless out of sheer starvation - and now everyone had laid down on their bedrolls around the fire. Genis was already sound asleep, his even, soft breaths ruffling his unruly silver hair every few seconds. Beside him, Raine had her head propped up on her pack and kept trying to read from the book in her hands, but couldn't seem to keep her eyes open. Whatever was on its pages held her interest strongly enough that she remained unable to give in to sleep completely.

Kratos, who had once again accepted the task as night watch, stood away on the edge of camp atop a small hill, staring out over the open ocean silently and with ubiquitous brooding mysticism. Sara sat crosslegged beside the fire, on top of her bedroll instead of in it, still very much awake. One elbow was propped up on her knee, and her chin rested on the heel of one hand as she stared into the flames.

Colette had her back turned to them all, lying on her side and facing the distant shore. Lloyd found his eyes drawn back to her often, worriedly checking for the steady rising and falling of her thin shoulders. He laid by her feet on his stomach, his chin resting on his hands, one ear to his arm. He wanted to feel tired, and really thought that he _should_ be, after the billions of monsters they'd fought today - but anxiety ate at him relentlessly like a swarm of hungry ants, stinging and gnawing him awake.

The Journey of Regeneration… where the Chosen undergoes a trial and becomes an angel to save the world. In the beginning, he'd had no idea what that meant exactly - only that, since _he_ was there, he'd protect Colette to whatever end. And that made everything okay.

But this?

What was he supposed to do to help? He'd never felt so powerless before, and he _hated_ it. Lloyd frowned, and buried his face in his sleeve as he sighed. His stomach churned unpleasantly, and he wasn't sure if it was from dinner or too much thinking. Probably both. He craned his head back and managed one last glance at Colette, who had shifted slightly, her knees now curled up to her chest.

Bit by bit, his eyelids grew heavier. He flipped over onto his back, hands behind his head, and stared up at the moon. The wispy clouds surrounding it had parted perfectly, leaving a circular hole just large enough for the glowing orb to peek through. Its faint magenta glow seemed to twinkle. He sighed, wondering what it was like up there, above the sky, where angels lived.

* * *

When Sara was reasonably sure the others had finally fallen asleep, she got to her feet.

Her back cracked, multiple times. She twisted her chin left and right, making her neck do the same. She breathed in against the anvil sitting on her chest, and turned away from the fire, towards the endless plains of silvery, moonstruck water. Soft grass and sand cushioned each fall of her boots.

At her sides, her hands curled into fists. She still hadn't taken off her gauntlets. She set her eyes forward.

Courage. She needed courage, and bravery, and probably more than a little insanity…

His back was to her. His hair was no longer cinnamon-red, but a pale, rusty silver beneath the moonlight's tint. He didn't turn to look at her, although she was completely positive he'd heard her approach.

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Her throat worked, and she held a hand to her face. Breath rushed into her nose and down to her lungs, and with it came a fleck of that courage she'd attempted to summon before.

"...Kratos."

Now, he turned, like he'd been waiting all along for her to find herself. She could only see his right eye; the left was hidden by his bangs.

Her fists cramped tighter. "I… I need your help."

That eye narrowed just slightly. "With what?"

A pearlescent, curly seashell rested just beside the toe of her right boot. She nudged at it idly. "I got… really close to something bad today. Back at the seal."

Kratos found this completely unsurprising - although the fact that she was here, talking about it, was rather the opposite. His chin tilted up in his strange, intimidating version of interest. "...So that dark presence was not from the guardian."

"No." She shook her head slowly. "I heard… it? Him? _Them_? I don't even know what to call it." A tremor passed through her muscles involuntarily. "But it… was right there, laughing at me. Scratching at the back of my head again."

"Yet you managed to drive it away."

"Yeah, but it distracted me. And as a result, I nearly got Colette hurt." Tears. No, that was dumb. Her lips pursed as she fought them off.

He said nothing, but kept watching her closely.

"...I need to have better control," she said finally. "I need you to train me."

His head turned curiously. "Train you?"

"I want to call it back." Her voice was low, and raw, and brutally humble. "I want to learn how to fight it. But I need support. And… a failsafe."

His arms folded across his broad chest. Contrarily, his glare softened.

"I need… you," she finished resolutely, and a lot more breathlessly than she intended.

"This could be dangerous. It is one thing to become a vessel during emotional or physical stress." He frowned, but not with condescension. Maybe with more… concern. "But it is another thing entirely to welcome a demon's presence of your own free will."

"I don't care," Sara growled. Her earthen eyes slid away and back towards camp. "This is _my_ responsibility. If I want to continue being a part of this journey, I need to take care of it before something else happens. I'm… just a risk as I am now."

Honesty. Integrity. These things, Kratos valued. These things, he saw in her.

And these things made him nod. "...Alright."

Relief washed over her in a soothing wave. She bowed her head. "Thank you, Kratos. ...Thank you."

"Come." He turned away, staring at her over one shoulder, and began walking. "The others… should not witness this."

* * *

Lloyd had been sleeping lightly anyway; when he heard a faint rustling beside him, that was all it took to snap his eyes wide open.

He pushed himself up with one arm. Groggily, he yawned, dragging one hand through his hair and to the back of his neck. He glanced around - the Professor and Genis hadn't moved and were both still sleeping soundly. Though Genis' thumb wasn't actually _in_ his mouth, it was close, and looked pretty hilarious - Lloyd would have to make fun of him for that later. Raine, for some reason, still had a book open and resting on her chest beneath her chin.

Kratos was nowhere to be seen, and actually… neither was Sara. He frowned, finding this a little strange, but didn't think much of it. Adults tended to keep strange sleeping habits, from what he'd observed thus far.

Finally, he turned to look at Colette's place, and… she was gone too. His frown deepened. He squinted, and could just barely make out the top of a golden head in the distance, between a gathering of rocks and trees.

Lloyd shot to his feet, each hand reflexively ensuring its blade's presence at his hips. He trotted forward, up a small hill and through a patch of waist-deep, strawlike grasses that pricked through his pants.

She must've heard him coming, because the stare she held up to the stars slid to him expectantly as he approached. The smile on her face was strange and forced, though no less beautiful. "Hi, Lloyd."

He paused just beside her. "Colette, you're still awake?"

"I couldn't sleep," she said, with a soft laugh. One of her hands drifted back and forth across the grass at her side, its lanky blades tickling her palm.

Lloyd gave her an admonishing, though kind glare. "You may feel better now, but you need to rest."

"I know. I'll go to sleep in a little bit." She paused here, for just a second longer than he felt comfortable about. "Don't worry."

"But still…"

She gestured back to camp and grinned hopefully. "I'm not the only one awake. See?"

"Yeah, but _you_ need to rest." His eyebrows knotted together. "I worry about you, you know."

"I'm sor-" She caught herself, just barely. She laughed again. "I know you do, Lloyd. And… that makes me so happy." Her sapphire eyes peered up and into his with nothing but pure, honest adoration. "So I'll try to sleep for you. I promise. I just need a few more minutes, okay?"

He nodded. A broad, joyous grin took over his face. "Okay. Good night, then." He rested one hand on her shoulder for a moment before turning away and heading back towards his bedroll.

Colette watched him go over one sagging shoulder. A peculiar solemnity darkened her lily-white face. She closed her eyes.

"Please, dream some good dreams for me, Lloyd."

* * *

Obviously, the first thing Sara did was start to take off her claws.

"Stop," Kratos ordered harshly. "Do not remove them."

Her eyes widened, as did her stance. They'd relocated to a rockier section of the island, and the stone beneath her feet crunched with each movement. "But, what if I attack you?"

He took in a breath and released it evenly. "You must not give yourself any handicaps. If you truly want to face this, you must be exactly as you were earlier at the seal: ready for battle."

Sara breathed; for several seconds, that was all she could do. "...Okay."

Slowly, deliberately, Kratos drew his sword. Its tip pointed straight at her, sharp and unforgiving. "Close your eyes. Quiet your mind." With one last simmering glance into her eyes, he nodded. "...Begin."

No. Wait, just… Could she _do_ this? What if…

Fear pricked her skin. Panic clenched her stomach.

But she remembered his voice. She remembered hot chocolate, and a blanket…

Sara's eyes closed. Her thoughts faded, overtaken by a creeping, dank darkness. It clogged every inch of her mind, a grimy, oily filth that slopped from one side of her head to the other.

"...There's shadows." They curled, flexed, wandered… lingered, like an incurable disease. "They're… grinning…"

Kratos remained silent. Whatever sought her assailed his senses, empty and deep, insatiable and rabid. His eyes narrowed. His sword raised before his chest.

"I can hear it…" Sara's fingers trembled. Her neck straightened, an organic creaking of vertebrae. "I can hear it laugh…"

"Meet it head on. Do not falter."

The ground shook. Her palms pressed against her temples. "I…Unngh…I-I can't-"

His next breath left his lips and nose as a determined growl. " _Focus_."

"So much… _anger_ …" Sara was thrown violently to her knees. Each of her claws pierced into the ground, gripping desperately, anchoring her against her mind's storm.

Kratos set his jaw. "...Let it take you."

Sara's eyes flew up to his, crazed and frenzied. Her breath came in heaved gasps. "Wh...what?! I _c-can't-_ "

"You must overcome its full power." His voice… what was his voice? Supportive… Tender? It reached her somehow, cutting through gurgling darkness with beaming precision. "It has no strength without your own, Sara."

The shadows slid along her skin, licking her like a fetid, lukewarm tongue. She heard many voices, a cacophony of whispering, shouting, cursing, _screaming -_ the loudest cackled dementedly right at her ear. Jagged diamond teeth flashed, a sickening grin. Crimson eyes thinned, wreathed in flame-

Her attack was instant, faster than he could blink - but he blocked it with his waiting sword. The spikes of her gauntlets caught the blade, screeching across its surface, shivering with effort. Her face was unhinged and twisted, her mouth pulled into an impossibly wide smile that twitched into a menacing snarl.

" _You bastard… "_ Inky blackness swam across her eyes. Her voice, disturbingly deep, slithered and crawled from her lips. " _I'll show you… my STRENGTH…"_

Everything in him wanted to look away, wanted to get as far from that voice as possible - but he simply dug his heels into the earth and stared forward without fear. "Remember your breath. Breathe in, Sara."

The sound that came from her throat wasn't human: a baleful growl that made the skin at the back of his neck tighten… but it got caught in a slow, pained intake of breath.

Kratos nodded. She continued to struggle against his sword; if it was wearing him out, he showed no indication. "Good. Breathe out."

" _Shut up!_ "

"Don't be afraid." His tone stayed low and calm, purposeful. "It has… no strength… without your own."

That murkiness in her eyes flickered. Her whole body shuddered and jerked. Her face inched closer to his overtop his sword, bit by bit, flashing from a grimace to that same snarling scowl… until finally, just before the tip of her wrinkled nose would have tapped his, she flung herself away - or was flung by something, he wasn't sure.

Sara staggered backwards and ended up on all fours. She panted, eyes squeezed shut, air scraping in and out of her chest. Her stomach clenched and tumbled; she couldn't stop trembling…

But she'd found her way back.

The rumbling ground quieted. Kratos could no longer sense that consuming, malicious presence and exhaled a relieved sigh. Slowly, he returned his sword to its scabbard and peered down at her.

"I did it," she croaked. "It's… it's gone."

An offered hand slid into her vision, with long calloused fingers and light blue gloves that stopped just after each knuckle. Through quivering orange bangs, she managed to look up at his face.

"You did well," he said softly.

She took the hand and rose hesitantly to her feet. "Th-thanks." His eyes were so welcoming and kind. He looked… warm, and something close to compassionate.

The fact that he was able to look at her like this, after what he just witnessed, absolutely blew her away. He really should be turning around, running for the hills, calling her a monster…

She certainly felt like one.

"And… thank you," she managed. "For being here."

Kratos nodded, and squeezed her hand once before letting go.

She remembered suddenly and through a haze that she'd attacked him. Needles of fear and shame pierced every inch of her skin. "Are… you okay? Did I…"

One corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk. "...It would take a lot stronger of an attack than yours to inflict a wound on me."

Her laugh was entirely too loud and inappropriate, but she couldn't help it. Humor more than slaked her thirst for normalcy. "Good to know I haven't injured your arrogance either."

She started to turn around, towards camp. The world swayed beneath her feet. The step she'd attempted forward slipped out from under her. "Sh- _shit…!"_

Kratos caught her instantly - each of his arms braced beneath hers, and her back crashed against his chest.

"Be careful," he chided. "What you did was no easy task. You've exhausted much of your mana."

She held one hand to her head in an attempt to stop it from spinning. Thankfully, after a few moments, it eased, and she swiveled her jaw to one side to gave him a cynical smirk. "...Heh. This is a trend for us, isn't it?"

"So it would seem."

His voice was… weird. And low, and quiet… Why was…

It had been several seconds, but he still hadn't moved away. And his arms weren't holding her steady anymore.

They were just… holding.

Sara swallowed. Her eyes slowly closed. His chest was still against her back, and it was so strong and solid, so comforting… She found herself leaning into it.

He allowed her to do so without protest.

Really, Kratos didn't much know what he was doing. All the signals his brain kept giving his arms to let go were falling on deaf… nerves? Though accidental, some insistent part of him refused to let this end. And the way she seemed to melt against him was nothing but encouraging.

When her head turned back to him again, the bridge of her nose pressed into his collared neck. She caught a scent of dark spices and leather, and wonderfully, overwhelmingly male skin.

This felt… indescribably _right._ His arms started to move - they eased back, his elbows drawing up against his ribs, and each of his hands cautiously, gently, settling onto her hips.

The next breath that left his lips was long and labored, and glided so perfectly down her neck.

Sara's heart began to pump with deafening enthusiasm. Breathing felt impossible. Her head lolled back languorously onto his shoulder. She was both exhausted and incredibly alive, and honestly a bit unsure this was really happening. Her hands went to his, each one of her fingers sliding between a knuckle and gripping firmly. And bit by tedious bit, she began guiding them upwards, beneath the hem of her shirt.

His lips hovered just beside her ear, and the stilted, tortured sound from them _just_ about killed her.

"Don't you ever lose control?" she asked, though it came out as more air than words.

"No," he lied.

"Not… even once…?"

That sound returned, deep and rumbling. His fingers kept twitching indecisively, and suddenly, there was no longer fabric beneath them - but supple, bare skin. And it felt _so_ soft and warm, and he wished that his gloves would simply vanish so his bare palms could press flush against her trembling stomach-

"Sara…"

She'd never heard him say her name like that. Or anything else, for that matter. It sounded desperate, a soulful, raw, last-ditch beg for mercy.

In an incapacitating torrent, Sara became acutely aware of exactly what was happening.

She whipped around to face him, breathing hard. Both of her hands pressed against his shoulders, simultaneously forcing him away and pulling him closer. She fought to meet his cinnamon eyes; they were heavy and half-lidded, staring intently down at the base of her neck and the gleaming amulet that hung there, unassuming.

"What… What do you _want,_ Kratos?"

Kratos sighed like it was the last thing he'd ever do. "...Too much, Sara."

"Oh, gods."

His hands drifted back to her hips and urged her forward. Sara complied listlessly, completely stunned. Her arms circled around his neck, her fingers threading into his thick auburn hair. Strange… It was softer than she thought.

His head lowered so slowly; his mouth finally brushed against her throat with incredible tenderness, across the soft, sensitive skin just behind her ear - once, as if an evaluation, or a test. Twice, an acceptance; a third time, an urgent demand…

...And that's when he heard it - just a faint rustle of the brush not far behind them.

When Sara managed to open her eyes again, he was gone.

Everywhere his body used to be was now unbearably cold. She didn't understand what had happened or why he had vanished until, seconds later, a small, delicate voice called her name.

Colette stood a few yards away, her big blue eyes fraught with worry.

"Is everything alright?" The Chosen asked. "It's really late… I was on my way to sleep, and I just thought I'd check on you."

 _What?!_

Sara's mouth hung open with undignified, mortified disbelief.

Eventually, she raised her hands to her still-flushed face and scrubbed at it, willing her heart to calm, and for the pyroclastic flow of her blood to cool into something a bit more normal.

"I'm okay," Sara managed. Her voice cracked. She tried to smile but it came off as more of a grimace. "Th-thanks, though, Colette. I'll… be back in a minute."

Colette nodded and smiled cheerfully. "Okay! Have you seen Kratos lately? He's been gone for awhile too."

"Kratos," Sara echoed. Her face felt paralyzed. She brought one hand idly to her hip, where she could still feel his curious fingers… "Uh. Nope, I haven't."

"Huh," Colette said thoughtfully. "I guess he's still out on watch. Oh well. Goodnight, Sara."

"Y-yeah. Goodnight, Colette. Get some rest."

The Chosen turned around, a dot of gold and white against slabs of grey and moss-green. She disappeared around a rocky corner. Sara stood still and listened. Her gaze flitted around the clearing, searching for a glimpse of cloaked shoulders, or a leather scabbard, or red-brown hair…

Nothing.

Her hands flew to her face as she shook her head.

"...What the _f-_ "

Gingerly, she returned to her bedroll. The world kept swimming a little, but she willed it still with a nonstop muttering of curses. Her whole body ached. Her eyes stayed open stubbornly, though she fought to close them. Lloyd, for the first time, seemed to be snoring with a fervor that matched Genis' teasing - not that the noise had _anything_ to do with her inability to sleep.

* * *

Though Koton's shop reeked of unpleasant memories, it also reeked of a wonderful, musty, archaic smell of the past. And it was this particular scent - and just about _only_ this - that made Raine able to once again push open his front door.

She inhaled thankfully and closed her eyes. For just a moment, though it was unseen by any of those following behind her, she smiled peacefully, as if finally undergoing some lifelong, long-lost catharsis. The shop's interior looked largely unchanged, although it was clear by the lack of dust on a handful of items that he'd acquired some new additions since their last visit.

The others shuffled in one by one; there was hardly room for two people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. Colette headed instantly for what she now knew was the fated Book of Regeneration, and stood before it patiently, staring down at its ancient, frayed cover with wide eyes. The Professor had taken it upon herself to transfer the Spiritua statue from Sara's rather unsafe and disorganized pack to her own, and she now removed it and held it tenderly in one robed arm. Its diamond halo sparkled and glinted, even in the shop's sepia, muted light.

Koton himself emerged from a door in the back. His hunched spine straightened - as much as it could, anyway - as he laid his bespectacled, withered eyes on Raine. He seemed unable to decide whether she herself, or the statue in her slender arms excited him more. Either way, his wrinkled face brightened like a kid in a candy store.

"Oh! The beauty has indeed brought me the Spiritua statue!" He hobbled forward as fast as he could. The Chosen's group watched in morbid curiosity. The way the old collector moved reminded Lloyd of an overeager three-legged horse. "Give it to me!"

"In exchange for the Book of Regeneration," Lloyd reminded him, with a warm glance at Colette.

"I know, I know," Koton grumbled. "Just be sure you remember: I'm only letting you _look_ at it."

As Raine handed over the statue, her brother and Lloyd each flanked Colette, bouncing impatiently on their heels as they each grinned excitedly at the ancient scripture.

"Wonderful," Koton marveled, holding the statue out before him like a child. "You may look at the Book of Regeneration as much as you like."

Genis punched one tiny fist into the air. "Alright!"

Raine, contrarily, simply nodded tersely. She stood behind Colette, peering over the Chosen's white shoulder intently. "Let's start reading it right away."

Kratos stood just beside her, a silent wall of thoughtful scrutiny, his garnet gaze staring down at the book with enough intensity to set it aflame. Sara hovered next to Lloyd, one of her hands absently fiddling with the amulet (Koton gave this a peculiar eye; why did it look so familiar...?) around her neck.

Colette lifted one arm forward. It felt difficult to do so, as if she were working her muscles against an unseen force. The bottom of her sleeve brushed against the edge of the book, creating a strangely soothing, scraping noise. Her fingertips gripped its edge. Its fabric felt dry and gritty, almost like desert sand. She lifted up and turned the thick canvas cover to the left. Dust burst around its seams as it crunched in protest, as if they'd sprung to life for the first time in decades.

Colette wanted to speak, but instead her breath caught in her throat.

The Professor's gaze was focused and unrelenting. The letters on the page seemed only distantly familiar, and curled in strange, sharp edges that she had trouble placing. "...Hmm. It's written in a very old style."

"What does it say?" Lloyd blurted.

"There's quite a lot of text." Raine noted that the pages themselves seemed just as worn as the ink inlaid into them, darkened with blotches of chocolate brown against a backwash of parched beige. "Colette, please read aloud just the parts that concern the seals."

"Okay," the Chosen agreed softly. "I'll skip over the torn parts."

Silence overtook the room. Their breathing seemed to echo in muted, deafening waves. Colette cleared her throat once - and her dulcet voice became the only sound for miles.

"Raging flames in an ancient city deep within clouds of sand overlook the city, lighting the darkness. Pure, flowing water floating, overflowing, in an isolated land becomes a giant pillar and rains down from the sky. Sublime wind, ancient city, the world's… Enshrined in the center of a giant stone seal lurks evil, impersonating a holy force. Shining… gazing up at the summit of the gods, giving praise to the pillar of the world…from the top of the tower of ancient gods. Two giant…"

Finally, she paused and shook her golden head. "…The rest is too damaged. I can't read it…"

Genis' shoulders slumped as he glared at the book. "Then we don't even know how many seals are left…"

"Indeed," Kratos agreed roughly.

Lloyd glanced up at all of them with wide, thoughtful eyes. "Well, The 'raging flames' part at the beginning must be the Seal of Fire, right? What do the other parts mean?"

The edges of Raine's mouth twitched into a hopeful smile. "The Seal of Wind must be…the Asgard Ruin. If we travel to Asgard, we should be able to find some clues."

Sara was smiling too. "Asgard is full of stories and lore of the past. There's no better place to look."

"What about "gazing up at the summit of the gods"?" Genis asked.

Colette's eyes thinned in thought. "I think that's probably the Tower of Mana. From there, you can see the mountains around the Tower of Salvation, so that's probably the 'summit of the gods.'"

Lloyd frowned. "But what seal is that?"

"Uh… hmm…" The Chosen stared at the book intensely for a few moments before sighing deeply. "I don't know."

"Oh, well." Lloyd shrugged, and grinned brightly, tilting his chestnut head to one side. "At any rate, we know where the seals are now. Let's get going." He turned back to Koton, and gave the older man a parting wave as he headed for the front door. "Thanks, Gramps."

"Thank you _so_ much," Colette agreed, with a flurry of respectful bows.

Koton watched them go, smirking smugly. "Come back whenever you like if you want to look at it again." And Raine had a distinct feeling he stared at her back as she walked through the door once more.

She wished suddenly that her already demure robes were even moreso.

...Creep.

* * *

The sun re-emerged from behind a few pesky clouds; as a result, and since they were so close to the sky on the mountain, life felt warmer and brighter than ever. Colette blinked at the armored guards standing before the peak of Hakonesia. A wooden gate met in their middle, and it was currently sealed shut. She turned back to the others with a grimace. "Um… we still don't have one of those road passes."

"Oh, right," Lloyd added sullenly, thinning his eyes at them. "How are we supposed to get to Asgard?"

"Oh," Sara said suddenly. One hand dug through a pocket dangling from the belt at her left hip; eventually, she procured a small, golden-lined slip of paper that had been obviously folded and unfolded many times. She flattened it gently and held it out before her in one palm. "Here. All Kozei delivery personnel are issued road passes for business purposes." She smirked as she looked around at each of the group. "Just say you're with me, okay?"

Genis gave her a skeptical glare as he crossed his arms. "Why would someone _flying_ on a dragon need a _road_ pass?"

"We've gotta land sometime," Sara answered factually. "The route between Palmacosta and Asgard is one of the busiest. Hakonesia is a popular roosting spot."

"I suppose this is our best option," Raine affirmed with a short sigh. She gestured the base of her staff up the mountain's winding dirt road. "Hopefully it works. Lead the way."

The yawning wooden gate loomed. Flags posted on either of its ends rustled gently in the steady, calm breeze. A pair of axes crossed before them as each soldier extended one arm, their black and emerald armor a bit tarnished with signs of age and wear.

"Halt," one of them said, a masculine voice that leaked out from behind a grated faceplate. "Only those with road passes may proceed."

Sara dangled the pass before where she guessed his eyes would be. She gestured her head to the group behind her. "They're with me."

There was a pause, in which everyone held their breath - and then the axes returned to the sides of their owners.

"You may proceed."

A collective exhale of relief. "Thank you."

Each guard turned and pulled a lever jutting from the gate's edges. Slowly, and with a tired creak, it opened, its hefty doors scraping away dirt as they retracted.

"Good journey to you," the other guard said, in a much more chipper tone. Lloyd eyed him in surprise, waving thankfully as he trotted past.

The trail they were on still led slightly upwards, lit heaven-like by the undeterred sun. Excitement truly wasn't a strong enough word for what Lloyd felt at this moment. Sure, all of the places he'd been so far had also been new - but this felt like crossing into a whole new world, one that until now had been only lore from his often-underread textbooks.

He looked over at Genis, who he fully expected to share his enthusiasm, but the younger boy looked only pensive, like the way he used to get when taking one of Raine's exams.

The sudden thought of Iselia sent a spear of pain through Lloyd's gut, but he brushed it off with a quick breath and smiled at his friend instead. "Say, Genis. What's on your mind?"

"I keep thinking about the angelic language in that book," he said. "It's pretty difficult."

Oh, so there was actually something that Genis _didn't_ easily understand… no wonder it was bothering him. Lloyd made a futile attempt to fight off the wry smirk that curled his mouth.

Colette piped up behind them. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Genis continued, his lips pursing thoughtfully. "I didn't really understand what was written."

The Chosen squeaked a laugh and shrugged. "I've read nothing but books written in the angelic language since I was a child, so…"

Genis' eyes and face both brightened. "I wonder if I could learn to read it if I study?"

"The angelic language is the basis for the language of this world," Kratos added from just beside them. "The grammar hasn't changed significantly."

Colette was beaming with purpose. "Yeah. I'll teach you if you'd like!"

Kratos nodded, and for once Genis didn't feel _entirely_ intimidated with the look he received. "I can provide some instruction as well."

"Okay!" Genis' fists shook with determination at his sides. "I'm going to learn it!"

The pack across Kratos' shoulders slid down into one hand, while the other rummaged around in it (only for a moment; he clearly knew the exact placement of every item inside) and procured a small book that looked, impossibly, more ancient than the Book of Regeneration itself. He offered it to Genis while returning the pack to his shoulders once more. "Start with this. It explains a brief history of the angelic language, as well as a cursory introduction to its lettering and grammatical system."

Genis took the book carefully, his eyes huge with wonderment. He wanted to open it and begin immediately, but they still had a ways to walk, and its contents would surely require his full attention - the last thing he wanted to do was begin a lesson _unprepared._ So he placed it securely within the side pocket of his own pack, although he swore he could feel it burning a hole in his side, calling to him…

Lloyd stared at Kratos flatly, thinking back to the books he himself carried that the mercenary had seen fit to lend him. "How many books to you _have_ in that thing?"

Kratos gave him a disgruntled glance. "Only what is necessary."

"'Necessary'?" Lloyd scoffed. "Gels, and potions, and maps, sure, but there's no such thing as a _necessary_ book-"

Suddenly, he was shoved forward by something impacting him square in the back. He barely managed to catch himself before faceplanting in the dirt. "Oww! What the-"

"Lloyd Irving: _take that back,_ " the Professor ordered thinly, returning her staff to her side.

"Not the smartest thing to say in front of Sis," Genis mumbled, smirking.

Lloyd tried to rub the sore spot between his shoulderblades but found he couldn't reach it. He eyed Raine warily over one crimson shoulder. "Ah, uh… S-sorry, Professor."

"Look!" Colette pointed straight ahead; the trail's peak was mere steps away. As a result, the wind picked up remarkably, slicing along the stone walls and buffeting her hair all about her face.

Lloyd got there first, his sore back a mere memory. Air rushed down his throat and filled his lungs. His chest expanded, his head tilting and eyes widening impossibly despite the interloping sun. Mountains slashed across the middle of endless plains, jagged and gigantic - at least twice as tall than the one his feet were currently planted on. Some of them even looked covered in snow, their peaks just barely obscured by a thicket of clouds. All around their roots stood countless evergreen trees that gradually tapered off into vast fields of half-brown grass.

In the distance to his left, he could just barely make out what appeared to be a few swirling windmills in between spires of mountain; they looked comically tiny from this far away. The whole area radiated an ancient strangeness. He squinted at it, using his left hand to shield his eyes from the light.

"That's Asgard," Raine confirmed for him. "Our next destination. And hopefully… the next seal."

Colette nodded, a downward twitch of her small chin.

Though it hesitated just slightly, she took the first step downhill.

* * *

A/N: The whole demon scene was massively inspired by Of Monsters and Men, and their song, "Human." Even some of their lyrics gave me a bit of dialogue... So good.

Read on! Thank you! Please review!


	16. Cupio (Desire)

Chapter Sixteen

 _Cupio_

* * *

From the dwindling forests leaked a steady stream of new monsters, creeping out from the darkness between trunks and branches. Giant striped hornets with deafening wingbeats and foot-long stingers; anthropomorphic plants that flung stinging seeds and barbs… nothing pleasant, and definitely more of a challenge than the average battle on the continent's southern end. Though the group had gained strength over the last several weeks, frequent breaks were taken to refuel both mana and energy, in the form of food and a steadily-dwindling supply of gels.

Lloyd had just finished gnawing on an apple and tossing its core into the grass when he heard his name being called. Swallowing, he turned around and swiped the back of one hand across his mouth.

"I am going to train now," Kratos continued. He stood, facing halfway towards the plains, eyeing Lloyd patiently. "Would you like to join me?"

Lloyd's mouth dropped open. Was the man _crazy_? They'd been nonstop battling for the last four hours, and finally at the first sign of peace, he wanted to _train_?

His gaping face must have been enough of an answer, because Kratos huffed and began walking away, his eyes thinned in scrutiny.

"W-wait!" Lloyd shot to his feet, fueled mostly by pride and far less by the paltry piece of fruit he'd just inhaled. "Yeah, I'll go."

A proud smile twitched one edge of the mercenary's mouth. "Alright, then. Let's go to a better location."

They headed eastward, just far enough to be out of range of the trees but close enough to the others should the need arise for reinforcements. Lloyd's hands rested on the hilts of his blades, his fingers curling and straightening eagerly. He walked slightly behind Kratos, whose straight, dignified back and burgundy hair prevented Lloyd from seeing what kind of expression he wore. Not that it really mattered, Lloyd realized, since nothing much at all ever showed up on Kratos' face.

Still - the fact that Lloyd had been invited to train whatsoever was something he treasured. He did truly enjoy learning the art of the sword and improving his skills. After all… he had friends to protect. If he didn't continue to gain strength, how would he do so?

Abruptly, Kratos stopped walking. In one fluid movement, he both faced Lloyd and drew his sword, his free hand gripping the scabbard at his hip.

Lloyd did the same. He held one blade before him and the other to his side. His nerves thrummed with anticipation. "I've gotten better than before, right?"

Kratos studied the boy's form intently. He nodded. "Yes. But you still have a long way to go."

A compliment? _Seriously!_ Lloyd flushed with joyful pride. Nevermind the fact that he still wasn't perfect - he knew that. But Kratos actually thought he was improving… Lloyd had wondered if this moment would ever come. He felt absolutely giddy, but hid it with a wavering frown. _Don't act like a kid…_

"I'm not getting good very fast," he managed, his voice a bit deeper than usual with overcompensation.

"The fault may lie partially with my teaching methods," Kratos admitted with a short sigh. "I do not use two swords."

Lloyd shook his head and smiled. "But thanks to you, I've learned the importance of the basics and a bunch of other stuff. And I'm just… happy."

It took a few seconds and a quick clear of his throat before the mercenary spoke again. "About what?"

"I'm an only child, so I always wanted a big brother who would practice swords with me."

A few more seconds. And… a few more. Kratos looked strangely rigid, his head turning away just slightly, though his gaze never left Lloyd. "I see."

Lloyd only sort of noticed this; he was too busy wondering what it would've been like to know a younger Kratos, back when he was Lloyd's own age. Was he ever rash? Or, maybe… emotional, at all? Had his hair _always_ been that spiky?

"Heheh. But you're kind of old to be my brother."

"Ah." Kratos blinked. "...I see."

Lloyd's train of thought launched forth of its own accord. How old _was_ Kratos, anyway? He could guess, but he really wanted to know the exact answer - just so he could gauge his own progress. But wasn't that, like, a rude thing to ask someone? Lloyd's mouth twisted.

"When did you start training?" he said finally. "How old were you?"

Kratos sighed again - he seemed to be doing that a lot lately - and his gaze finally lowered, settling instead on the tip of his sword. "A long time ago. I was very young." He shook his head quickly - and then both his eyes and his blade were back to Lloyd. "At any rate, let us begin."

Lloyd nodded and inhaled a steeling breath. He met Kratos' precise glare with a confident grin. "Alright. ...Thanks."

* * *

Honestly, Raine still didn't know a lot about Sara.

It hadn't been that long since they crossed paths, she guessed - about two weeks? Getting to know a person took time, after all. From what Raine had discerned so far, the woman was a bit hotheaded and easy to anger, yet generally maintained an upbeat, friendly demeanor despite some stubborn cynicism. So the fact that she hadn't spoken in several hours and wanted nothing to do with the others sent up some red flags.

Raine herself, Genis, and Colette all sat beside one another, finishing up the last scraps of lunch. Sara had her back turned to them, and instead faced the distant mountains, whose snowy peaks seemed to hover in and out of existence within high clouds. She'd been done eating for awhile, but still hadn't turned around. Her now empty-plate rested beside one crossed leg in the grass. Raine used retrieving it as an excuse to come closer.

"How was lunch?"

Sara's head twitched up and off of her propped fist. Her eyes widened up at Raine. "O-oh, hey. It was fine, thanks. And just in time - I was getting a little hangry."

Raine quirked one slender, silver eyebrow. "'Hangry'?"

"You know, it's like…" Some vague hand gestures. "This combination of 'hungry' and 'angry.' When you get cranky because you're hungry."

"Ah, I see," Raine said flatly. "Perhaps I should add this to my vocabulary teachings."

"You really should. It's super appropriate sometimes."

Raine looked down at the crumbs clinging to the plate in her hand and cleared her throat. "...Are you alright?"

"Huh?"

"You just seem… unusually quiet lately."

"Oh." Sara frowned thoughtfully. "Do I? Heh, I figured you wouldn't mind that from me."

"It's not that I don't," Raine began sardonically. "But if one of us is troubled or carrying secrets, that could jeopardize the success of our mission. Issues need to be addressed, not hidden."

Sara dragged one hand through her hair. "I just… have some stuff on my mind, okay? But you don't have to worry about it. I'm handling it."

Raine stared down at Sara's hands resting on her knees and repressed a shudder. "Is it about your demons?"

Sara's breath caught, and then left her nose in a perturbed growl. "No. I'm taking care of that. Kratos is helping me train to fight it."

Strangely, Sara's cheeks seemed to flush a shade of deep pink. Raine inwardly smirked. "Is he? When did this start?"

"Last night, after the Seal-" Her eyes thinned, and she stood suddenly. Sara fixated a skeptical, fuming glare on the Professor and jabbed forward with an accusing finger. "Wh-what's with all the questions, huh? Don't you trust me?"

The urge to roll her eyes was overwhelmingly strong, but Raine fought it off. "I do. The question is whether or not _you_ trust _me_."

Anger petered out. With its disappearance, Sara's shoulders slumped and she hung her head. "Yeah. I do. I trust all of you, but… some things are better left in my own head, okay? I promise it won't jeopardize anything."

After several scrutinizing seconds, Raine nodded. "Alright. I understand. ...But the minute I believe otherwise, I will smite you where you stand. Are we clear?"

"Heh, I knew I liked you," Sara said with an appreciative click of her tongue. She crossed her arms and inclined her chin. "Smite away. And If I ever think you're not noticing, I'll ask for it myself." Over Raine's shoulder, Colette stood and began packing her bag. Sara's smug disenchantment melted into a soft smile. "...Because she and the kid are most important."

Raine offered one hand. "On that, we agree."

Sara shook it without hesitation.

* * *

Maybe it was just because of the mountains, but the southern continent seemed much more sheltered from wind than this one. Here, everything felt affected by its endless touch. Even though they were still a few miles out from Asgard, the windmills made their presence known - a steady _crunch-thump-crunch-thump_ that Lloyd honestly found more unnerving than anything. He could barely see the blunt wooded edges of each broad fan blade swirl above the mountaintops.

"What do you think they're made out of?" he wondered aloud.

"Some type of strong wood," Genis answered. "I've never seen windmills this big. I mean, it would _have_ to be strong to sustain this kind of repetitive force."  
"Or perhaps it's simply treated with a special epoxy mixture," Raine said, her eyes never leaving Asgard's silhouette. "Something to bind the wood particles into a solid mass…"

Lloyd dashed forward, thoroughly done with discussion and instead brimming with furious curiosity. "Let's go see for ourselves!"

Energy ran high; soon after, they found themselves perched at Asgard's entrance. Much like Hakonesia peak itself, another gate stood before it, although this one was thankfully devoid of guards and merely served as a kind of welcome mat to inevitable tourists. On the western side of this gate stood a tall, rocky wall, while the eastern fell off into a deep chasm; the wind echoed into it ominously as a constant, sad groan. The city itself was erected on multiple levels, each of which were connected by a main staircase, its grey, slablike steps leading forever up and into the heavens.

Lloyd's eager footfalls slowed to a reverent halt. "Whoa. I guess I can see why people would come on a pilgrimage to here." He paused and swallowed. "Like… Chocolat said."

"Yes," Colette added with a bow of her golden head. "Asgard is steeped in the Church's history. I've wanted to come here since I was small."

"Where shall we head first?" Kratos asked.

"We are in pretty dire need of supplies," Raine offered with a frown at her disturbingly-light bag. "Let's find a shop."

They headed past the gate and down the path leading into the city's heart. Its construction was an organic marriage of the natural landscape and innovative architecture: most homes and buildings were carved straight from the stone itself, their front doors and displays level with its face. It was midafternoon, and while not quite as bustling as Palmacosta, several Asgardian citizens still milled about the streets and main stairway. They were dressed in layers of robes and scarves dyed deep, earthen reds, greens and blues. Many didn't give the Chosen's group a second glance; tourists were a dime a dozen here, and strange faces a part of daily life.

"I'll get us some food," Genis announced, heading for a small shop just up a nearby staircase. The steps were huge, and took his full stride length to make it from one to the next. He grimaced, holding his arms out to his sides for stability. Lloyd and Colette followed after him; with the former offering the latter a helping hand. She took it thankfully, blushing a little.

"And I'll see to our medicinal supplies," Raine said. She glanced back at Sara with a devious smirk before opening the door to the neighboring shop. It closed with a slam from the buffeting wind.

Sara's eyes darted back and forth between both shops desperately. Her jaw tensed. She could hear her teeth creak. Kratos stood just beside her, a royal blue statue, looking away and up the city's stairs. His hair and cloak swayed rhythmically in the mountain's breeze. He said nothing, and seemed perfectly content with this, and made no move in the contrary.

A frustrated grumble lingered at the back of her throat. Seriously? He was intentionally ignoring her? How absolutely childish… and immature, and…

She scowled bitterly, though her cheeks burned. Her steps were heavy and purposeful as she strode forward and around his side before finally pausing before him. She half-expected him to turn away again, or to claim he had pressing business inside the shops - but instead he just kept looking at her with a bland, utterly bored expression.

"So," she said.

He sighed. "Yes?"

Sara breathed an incredulous laugh. "Um. Are we ever, you know, gonna talk about this, or…?"

He crossed his arms to mirror hers. His head tilted slightly. "...What is there to talk about?"

"Pffffft." That laugh was real now, and throaty, and tinged with acidity. "Uh. I don't know, literally _everything_?"

His eyes thinned even more. She kind of wanted to pluck them from his face. "Perhaps you should simply ask me any questions you may have," he suggested cooly.

"Okay." Sticking out her bottom lip, she nodded approvingly. "Well, then. How about: what _was_ that?"

A particularly rough breeze blew through, swaying his hair and revealing his angled, often-hidden face. At the same time, his shoulders pulled back and apart, and his arms dropped, along with his smooth voice.

"Were you not there?"

That lingering growl spilled forth from her parted lips. Her eyes shot skyward. "For shit's sake, Kratos, stop being such a jerk."

A sudden fire in his eyes flickered - anger? Admiration? A bit of both? - though he said nothing.

"I'm not one to mince words, okay?" she continued deliberately. "I hate guessing. It's really stupid, and causes too many headaches. So I'm asking what it _meant_ , if anything."

As much as he loathed to admit it, he kind of admired that attitude. It imitated his own rather well.

"Sara…"

Her eyes widened expectantly. She jerked her head in his direction.

"...I have never known a woman like you," he concluded in a rumble.

She bit her bottom lip. Her face erupted all over again. "Okay…"

"There are few things left in this world that I do not understand, or that challenge me," Kratos continued quietly. "You are one of them."

Her freckled face tensed in bewilderment, and she couldn't decide if this was a compliment or his way of inflating his own ego. "...Thanks?"

He took a small, yet simultaneously enormous step towards her. Everything about his body language radiated hostility, but for whatever reason, she found it extremely hard to believe.

"Additionally…" He really sounded as if he were offering a pupil advice on swordplay: businesslike, sincere. "You are physically appealing. Given those circumstances, something like this was rather inevitable."

Well, then. Maybe this was just… him? Not every guy had to be sweet, or affectionate, or… well, just not-confusing. She relaxed a little at this realization. Her tensed muscles turned to jelly, as if there were no normal in-between. "...Well, that one's definitely a compliment. So thanks, for sure now."

Kratos gave a precautionary look to the shops at their left. Shortly after, his gaze returned to her with infallible scrutiny. His throat felt dry, and he hated it. She wore the same outfit she always had; with its several layers, it could hardly be considered revealing, but now, it looked to cling to her just a bit… _differently_.

"However," he began gruffly, "at this point, my physical attraction to you is the _only_ thing I am certain of."

That hit her like a ton of bricks. This was not exactly… a _normal_ situation. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, the lower of which she nibbled on again, and he really wished she would _stop_ that. "Alright. Uh. Do you… want space, or something? Should I-"

"Unnecessary." For the first time, he sounded genuine and humble. "Just be yourself. I… simply need more time."

"Okay. Done." She grinned, and it was so blinding and bright that he almost had to look away. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Amazingly, those shop doors hadn't opened. He decided quickly to run with the opportunity. "...May I ask you a question as well?"

She shrugged, and turned away slightly, pretending to look down at the Exsphere on the back of her left hand. She brought it to her mouth and huffed on it, then proceeded to polish it with the edge of her duster, her umber eyes flicking up to his every few seconds. "It's not like there are rules, Kratos. Ask whatever you want."

He stepped forward once more. Damn that edge of his mouth for pricking so invitingly. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

Sara pursed her lips defiantly. "Don't look at me like that."

"It is a simple question, Sara."

Her arms crossed again. She glared at him from the corner of one eye.

"Yes or no would suffice," he offered evenly.

"Oh, hell. Were you not there?" Her hands planted firmly on her hips. "Sound familiar, _hmm_?"

Another step closer. Any more, and they'd be hugging. His next breath ghosted warmly and with far too much familiarity down her neck. "...Your blushing indicates your answer is yes."

Was Kratos the mercenary really _making fun of her_? Who _was_ this person? Sara quickly brushed aside that surge of disbelief and retorted: "Okay, _now_ you're just fishing for compliments."

"Not compliments," he corrected. His voice seemed strangely deep, almost silky. "Simply the truth, Sara."

"The truth?" Her tone lowered to a biting whisper. She stared into his eyes with unflinching determination. "Well, you're ridiculously sexy, and the way you were making out with my neck felt pretty great. So yeah, I had a pretty good time, thanks very much."

She swore his hair bristled again. He stared at her silently, his broad shoulders rigid and stiff. What _was_ that look? Why was he always so damnably hard to read? She held her breath involuntarily.

Slowly, his eyebrow raised.

"...'Ridiculously'?"

" _Oh_ my g-" She threw her hands in the air before using one of them to shove at his shoulder. "I'm done. Get away from me, you… stupid…" Grumble. "...pointy-haired…" More grumbling. "... _jerk-face_."

He was still smirking as he watched her stomp away, her fists making flustered twitches at her sides. "Your vocabulary leaves much to be desired, Sara."

She sneered back at him over one shoulder. "Oh, I'll give you something to _desire_ , alright."

"...Good."

The door she'd begun opening jerked midway. She hissed a curse that was probably supposed to be under her breath but came out much the opposite. Finally, she slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, attempting to hide her flaming face in one hand.

A shelf laden with many gels and potions across the room clattered softly from the impact. Raine straightened from inspecting it. In one arm she held a halfway-full basket. At the sight of Sara, her lips pressed together in a wavering smile.

Sara peeked at her in between two fingers and scowled. "You did that on purpose."

"...I have no idea what you're talking about."

* * *

More than anything, Colette wanted to not feel useless.

While small, this market was stocked with a vast array of items, many of which she'd never even heard of. Coriander… bottom round… tongue? Did some poor animal's _tongue_ seriously make a meal? She pressed a few delicate fingers worriedly to her chin. Genis stood just beside her, and looked far more confident and decisive. At once, she flooded with appreciation and wonderment.

"How do you know what to buy?"

Genis looked over at her with a smug grin. "Just lots of practice, I guess. I've always loved cooking… figuring out ingredients is simple to me."

Lloyd popped his head up from across the aisle. "Along with pretty much everything else." He smiled, and gave Genis a thumbs-up around the canister of salt in his hand. "You're amazing, Genis."

"Yes," Colette agreed wholeheartedly, and Genis felt a bit awkward at this sudden rush of appreciation in a grocery market of all places. But, hey - take it while you can, right?

"Thank you for being on this journey," the Chosen continued sincerely.

Genis wrinkled his nose. "Colette… why are you talking like I'm some baby?" He slowly lowered the wicker basket dangling from his wrist. "I want to be part of all this, too."

"Oh, yes. I know. And thank you again. And… I'm sorry." The smile on the Chosen's face beamed. "Do you think you could… teach me how to cook a little better?"

"Of course!" Genis shoved a few more items into the basket at his arm. "You're going to teach me the angelic language, right? Well I can definitely teach you some of my recipes, too."

Numbly, Colette picked up a container of spices on the shelf before her labeled 'cumin.' The glass it was made from felt pleasantly smooth, and the powder inside it looked fine and a faint brownish-green. "Um, so. This is… coo-mine? What would I use this for?"

"Well, _cumin_ is a pretty powerful spice," Genis began thoughtfully. "You'd only use a little bit, and in dishes where spicy and savory go well together. Like curry. Or some types of stews and chilis."

"Powerful," Colette echoed. "Okay. Do you think we need any?"

Genis shook his head. "Probably not. We've only made a few dishes with our supply so far, so there's plenty left."

The sigh that left Colette's lips was far too burdened and depressing, but she couldn't help it. "Oh. Yeah, okay. That makes sense."

The look on her face made Genis feel a bit guilty. He straightened his back and gestured to the aisle beside them. "You know… what we do need is some meat. You could find us some smoked sausage or some cured ham."

"Yeah?" Colette grinned so hard that her cheeks hurt. "Okay!" And she flitted off to the new section of the store, grabbing her own basket from the stack in the market's center.

It smelled a bit different here - dry, and spicy. She took in a long, grateful breath through her nose, the smile never leaving her graceful face. One hand went to the side pocket of her cloak; she had about 500 gald to work with, which seemed reasonable as she peered down at the prices. The wooden shelves were well-stocked with all manner of weird meats - kielbasa? Chorizo? Something ending in - _wurst?_ Finally, she recognized salami, and placed a length of it in her basket with a relieved sigh.

Just beside her, a young woman with a pair of boys holding each of her hands shuffled by. Their clothes looked ragged and worn; many spots were patched with fabric of uncoordinated colors. The woman's long brown hair sat high on her head in a disheveled bun. The boy holding her left hand tugged on it insistently as he edged himself in the direction of the shelves, but she immediately drew him back against her hip and shook her head.

"We don't have enough money for meat today," she said quietly. "Maybe next week, okay?"

The boy's pale lips pulled his bony face down with them. He held his free hand to his stomach, but nodded.

Colette's eyes widened. Her chest began to hurt. She glanced down at her basket and took in a long breath. As she released it, her hand shot back to her pocket and extended in front of her with several coins.

"Please take this," she said, attempting to hide the waver in her voice by raising its volume. Though since her usual tone wasn't much above a whisper, it simply came out normal.

The brown-haired woman, who had already begun walking away, stopped abruptly and turned around. Her boys were giving the Chosen curious, doe-eyed stares. The mother herself appeared stunned; her mouth fell open, but all that left it was air.

"I-I heard you say… you needed money, so…" A smile dawned on Colette's bright-pink face. "Please take this. I have a little extra, and you need it more than I do." She stepped up to them gingerly. The oldest boy's hand drifted out in front of him, and Colette carefully placed three of her five coins in his palm. His small fingers curled around them instantly as his face broke out in an elated grin. He glanced up at his mother, excitedly bouncing up and down on his heels.

"Th-thank you," the woman stuttered, bowing her head. Her boy once again tugged on her hand, but this time she let go. "That's a huge help. I really appreciate it."

"Of course," Colette chimed. "May the Goddess Martel bless you." And she turned away; when she was sure none of them were still looking, she exchanged the length of salami in her basket for one half its size.

When she returned to Genis and Lloyd, the former gave her mostly-empty basket a disappointed, skeptical glare. "That's all you got?"

She shrugged, but kept smiling. Her heart pounded joyfully. "I… didn't have as much money as I thought I did, I guess. Hehe."

"Oh." Genis shrugged too; his own basket was getting almost too heavy to carry, and he hefted it forward in both arms towards the cashier's counter. "I'll ask Raine for more later."

* * *

A little further into Asgard, a great, rocky cave split the mountainside. Its edges were lined with wooden planks for extra support; the stone that formed its opening looked ancient and ready to crumble into dust without help. The air issuing forth from its mouth felt damp and brisk, as if skimming a glacier's face. It stuck to Lloyd's skin as he walked past, making him shiver and shake his head. He'd really had enough of humid caves after their ordeal at the geyser, and thought nothing of entering. Neither did Genis or Colette, who followed behind him evenly. The Professor, however, had other ideas.

" _Marvelous,"_ she choked, her fists held beneath her chin with childlike wonderment.

Genis sighed. "And here we go again."

"This is the Shrine of the Rite," Raine exclaimed, stepping into the cave. "Everyone, please follow me."

Lloyd blinked. "Uh, are we part of a tour now?"

"Just go with it," Genis muttered, heading after his sister. Lloyd followed, though he breathed a grumbling sigh and frowned about it. There were _way_ more exciting things to see and do here than stare at a bunch of rocks…

As they all shuffled inside, it became clear that they were not the only ones who found the Shrine interesting; a handful of other tourists were crowded inside, pointing at various locations on the arched stone walls with eager fingertips. A series of worn paintings haunted each wall, half-erased by time and entropy and years of curious fingers. Lanterns flickered softly in each corner of the rectangular, dungeon-like room, barely illuminating the depictions. Lloyd's malaise instantly vanished and turned instead into interest, which he briefly found surprising given the overwhelming dullness he'd expected. He narrowed his eyes, inching closer to the nearest wall as he tried to make out whatever was painted onto it. There looked to be humanoid figures, tall and lanky with long hair, dressed in flowing robes - but they met with a violent end, as each one fell into the claws of some hulking, winged monster, beneath whose tail spread a pool of blood.

He grimaced, wondering exactly what _kind_ of cave this was - until Raine offered the information freely to all who wanted to listen: "This is the Shrine of the Rite. It is said that the maidens who performed the ritual used to spend a night in this shrine."

"Ritual?" Lloyd echoed warily. "What kind of ritual?"

"The details are unclear," Raine said, using the beaming crystal on her staff to brighten the depictions even more. "Only true Asgardians know what exactly transpires. The details were passed down by the people of the Balacruf Dynasty. But, there are hardly any traces of that ancient civilization left in modern knowledge. It's almost as if they were intentionally erased by someone."

"Fine by me," Genis gulped. "It doesn't look like something we want to be part of."

"Only _maidens_ were participants," Sara said, smirking down at him with half of her mouth. "You're safe, Genis."

His lips formed a tight ball, as did his fists. "I know that…"

Some of the paintings seemed to portray intricate structures and looming towers of stone and metal. Colette's gaze drifted over them reverently. "If we could revive the knowledge of the ancients, I wonder if it would make our lives easier?"

"Magitechnology such as this is useful, certainly," Kratos began, his voice low and reticent, "but it carries a hefty price. Perhaps it is best left to the ancients."

Raine sighed wistfully as she bowed her head. "But what I wouldn't give for a chance to…"

"Hey," Lloyd cut in, eyeing a wooden post near the cave's entrance. He gestured to it with one elbow. "This says there's something called the 'Asgard Ruin' just up the stairs outside. Do you think that's where the seal is?" Before he finished, a swift breeze blew past him, along with a smudge of orange and silver and a streak of light.

" _To the stairs,"_ Raine commanded.

Before them, and at the apex of the city's main staircase stood an enormous dais, six feet tall and at least sixty feet wide and long. Perched at each of its four corners was a slim, opulent pillar; an intricate statue crowned each one, with exquisite, sinuous necks, obsidian claws and flaring wings whose thin edges had been steadily chipped at by the mountain's perpetual breath. It resembled a dragon, although whatever it was modeled after clearly stood upright instead of on four legs. Judging by its intimidating posture, it was a legendary creature not to be trifled with.

Lloyd couldn't seem to focus on the dais at all. His back was turned to it, and instead his attention held out over Asgard itself. Now that they were up so high - hundreds of feet, he was sure, judging by how small each of the shops and windmills looked - it seemed all the more wondrous.

"Lloyd." The Professor's voice bit into his happiness like a wolf's steely jaws. "State the historical background of this ruin."

"Ah, um…" Lloyd whipped around, grinning innocently. "Well, let's see…"

Genis cleared his throat and inclined his chin. "It's the temple where Cleo III held a ritual to offer a sacrifice to the Summon Spirit of Wind in order to quell a storm that had raged for a week."

"...That's it," Lloyd agreed emphatically.

Vengeful fire lanced across the Professor's face. "Gah! Haven't you learned anything at all in these past five years?!"

Lloyd ticked each item off on a finger: "PE, and art, and-"

" _Nevermind,_ " Raine spat. She immediately turned on one heel and faced the dais, as if it would somehow absorb all of her rage. "What perfect form! This delicate curve is said to express the flight of the Summon Spirit of Wind through the sky. In addition, it is said that this stone is infused with a large volume of mana, and at night…"

A numbness settled over Lloyd's mind. He recognized it instantly, and almost felt the familiar seat of his desk from Iselia's classroom beneath his rump. Instinctively, he wandered off - and it seemed Kratos had as well, from either boredom or distraction. Lloyd couldn't decide which he related to more. He approached Kratos, who stood a few yards away and facing similarly into the distance.

The expression on the mercenary's face was peculiar. His arms were folded over his chest, and he kept giving the Professor an inquisitive glance though strands of burgundy hair. "She must really love ruins. Or perhaps something happened to her when she was young to cause this obsession."  
Lloyd had honestly never thought about it this way. He gave Kratos an addled look. Really, Lloyd always considered Raine's ridiculous obsessions as a byproduct of her unquenchable demand for knowledge… but… what if it was something else? And why was _Kratos_ of all people pointing this out to him?

Instantly, Lloyd felt an overwhelming sense of discomfort. The thought of anyone, much less _Kratos_ , finding the Professor interesting in any way other than detached scrutiny was utterly unbearable.

Without saying another word, Lloyd turned around and headed towards Colette; all the while, Raine kept speaking: "...It is thought that the mystique created around this stone dais can be attributed to this Filament Effect…"

Lloyd tapped Colette on one shoulder. She turned around to face him with a grin. "This is… very educational," she managed. Beside her, Sara was staring at Raine in what could've been either disbelief or interest; Lloyd hoped it wasn't the latter.

"Any questions?" Raine finished finally, and that was all it took for Lloyd to dash around the corner of the dais. The ground here was a mixture of dry, windbitten earth and verdant grass; his boots made little to no noise as they launched before him.

"Professor," he heard Colette say, "that's kind of complicated… could you explain it again?"

Lloyd paled and ran faster.

Around the next corner of the dais, however, he skidded to an abrupt halt.

He pressed one hand to its edge as he eased his head around it inch by inch, eyes wide. Two young men stood only a few yards away, at the very back of the dais; one was dressed in a green tunic and earthen-brown pants. His back was to Lloyd, and for whatever reason, his thin, almost delicate shoulders were pressed down dejectedly; his dark blue hair caught the wind and whipped about his pale face.

The other radiated passion and energy; his clothing represented this, in the form of a bright purple tunic and even brighter, tomato-red hair pulled halfway back in a white bandana. It was he who spoke, although in a hushed whisper that Lloyd was positive he had no idea was being overheard.

"Listen, Linar! This is my invention, the 'breaker.'" He gestured to a boxy device just beside him, with several wires leading into a second, smaller box that sat on top of it. From what Lloyd could see, there appeared to be some sort of switch or handle attached to its topmost surface.

"If we use this bomb," the red-haired man continued, "we can easily destroy this confounded dais."

Lloyd's eyes widened even more. _Bomb?!_

The second man, Linar, frowned hesitantly and scratched at the back of his head. "B-but, Harley… This is a rare and valuable remnant of the Balacruf Dynasty. We can't destroy it."

"What are you _talking_ about?" Harley seethed. "As things stand now, Aisha may be killed!"

Okay… bombs, and killing, and… Lloyd's interest and sense of justice got the better of him. He straightened his back and lunged into view, hands hovering just beside his blades. "What are you two doing?"

The young men balked, freezing in place. Lloyd approached them slowly; their eyes followed his every move. Harley's mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to squeak: "Wha-who are you?"

On the opposite side of the dais, Raine fell silent. She turned her head just slightly, tilting one ear in the direction of where she thought she'd just heard a voice…

"It's not what you think!" Linar blurted, drawing back against the dais and nervously pressing his glasses higher up the bridge of his small nose. "We weren't trying to destroy the ruin at all!"

Genis dropped his jaw. He'd heard it too. Before he had a chance to say anything, his sister had backed up a few steps and gotten a running start - she leapt onto the dais gracefully, her sepia-orange robes fluttering about her arms and legs. She immediately sprinted forward, towards the source of that evil, _terrible_ voice…

Lloyd saw her coming. Slowly, he backed away - but Harley and Linar had their backs to her and remained unaware.

Her chest heaving, Raine flicked her livid gaze between both of them. " _What did you just say?!"_

Lloyd half-expected fire to burst forth from her mouth. Harley and Linar flanked him; Linar instinctively hid behind Lloyd's shoulders at the sight of Raine, who stood towering on the edge of the dais, hands on her hips, far more terrifying than the statues clawing at them.

"Professor," Lloyd began calmly, though with a droll smile, "these guys said they're planning to destroy this stage."

Raine leapt to the ground, landing just in front of the 'breaker.' Harley and Linar backed up another step. "And you call yourselves human beings?!" she hissed.

Harley mustered the courage to square his shoulders. "I am a _half-elf,_ " he corrected. When he blinked next, his eyes opened to Raine's face mere inches in front of his own. He jerked backwards instinctively.

"What has that got to do with anything?!" She stood up tall, folding her arms authoritatively across her chest. "You have no idea of the importance of this ruin!" And to accent her words, she flung out one arm its direction - only to completely unknowingly trip the bomb's delicate, foreboding switch with the back of her hand. A trio of dials sprung into action on its face, their small numbers twisting and counting steadily down with each passing second.

Lloyd, Harley and Linar all spoke at once in the same deadpan tone: "Uh-oh."

 _Click… click… click…_

"You say you're going to destroy this fabulous ruin?" The Professor was far from done, and both the wind and her own voice prevented her from hearing anything else. "Now, listen. During the final era of the Balacruf Dynasty, this ruin was-"

" _Professor,"_ Lloyd began through gritted teeth, his eyes darting from her steadfast face to the bomb's swirling numbers repeatedly.

"What?" Raine glared at him. "If you have any questions, I'll take them after the lecture."

Lloyd deliberately cleared his throat. "The bomb turned on."

"I _said,_ if you have any questions, I'll - _what?!"_ Finally, she turned around and peered down in terror at the bomb, one aghast hand pressed over her heart.

"Woman!" Harley shouted, stumbling backwards. "You flipped the switch!"

Raine's eyes slid to one side. She whipped around, and with superior form and blinding speed, her foot shot out and impacted him square in the chest, effectively completing his backwards stumble for him. He landed on his rump on the ground, gawking at her through a pained grimace.

"Don't try to put the blame on someone else!"

For probably the first time in his life, Lloyd realized that right now, he was the only rational one in a situation that also involved the Professor.

Slowly, he placed himself between Raine and Harley. "That doesn't matter now. Is there a disarm switch?"

Harley stared at Lloyd indignantly as he climbed to his feet. "Of course not!"

"Don't act like you're _proud_ of it!" Raine growled over Lloyd's shoulder.

Lloyd sighed and raked one hand through his hair. "I guess I'll just have to disarm it myself…" He sank to one knee before the bomb, whose numbers indicated he had just shy of two minutes before he and the prized dais turned into tiny, flaming bits. Luckily for all of them, this sort of thing was one of the few skills that had always come naturally to Lloyd - crafting, electrical work, carpentry… anything he could do with his hands, really. Reading about something always felt unbearably boring, especially when he could actually be _doing_ something instead.

Harley, Linar, and yes, even the Professor all watched in petrified awe as Lloyd's fingers flew in and around the breaker's guts. After the longest thirty-seven seconds in all of their lives, the twitching numbers came to a beautiful halt.

As Lloyd got to his feet and brushed his hands off on his pants, he was smiling proudly, feeling rather accomplished. Harley approached, holding a curious hand to his chin, though he winced a little from his sore chest, on which was still silhouetted a footprint. "Hey, you're pretty good to be able to stop the uncontrollable 'breaker'..."

Lloyd's smile flattened into a perturbed frown. "Don't go around building stuff you can't control!"

"The _ruin_ ," Raine announced with a scholarly tilt of her chin, "seems to be unharmed."

Opposite Lloyd and his new friends, on the other side of the dais, Colette suddenly heard footsteps and strange voices. Her head perked up from its inquisitive place near the base of the ruin - because what kinds of grasses and weeds could possibly have grown here, in this climate, and near such an old thing…? Idly, the Chosen realized that perhaps Raine had rubbed off on her in maybe the slightest of ways.

Those voices grew steadily closer as they worked their way up Asgard's stairs. Kratos seemed to notice this also, and in an unhurried few steps, he stood protectively in front of Colette, his right hand waiting pointedly atop the sword's hilt at his left hip. Genis mimicked this stance, although one third of is size and replacing a kendama with a sword. Sara simply looked back over one shoulder, her fingers poised and ready to become claws at any moment.

"You there!"

The shout came from an older man who, despite leaning for support on a worn wooden walking stick, managed to climb the stairs with practiced ease. His free hand adjusted the woolen cap covering his mostly-bald head; a deep scowl accented the already-profound wrinkles around his mouth and cheeks.

"Trespassing in this area is forbidden," he grumbled, enforcing the last word with a warning jab of his stick. Two younger men, his apparent assistants, agreed with stern nods.

Kratos, Colette, Genis and Sara stared at them silently, but on the other side of the dais, Linar rose up on his tiptoes to see overtop and dropped his jaw. "Oh, no, it's the Mayor!"

This fact seemed to have the same effect on Harley. "Uh oh. Run!" And then he and Linar were dashing away in a chaotic scramble, ducking low to hide their heads behind the stone.

Lloyd swallowed and glanced at Raine. "Professor, this looks like trouble! Let's just get out of here!"

"But I haven't had time to study the structure of the-"

"Just come _on_! Hurry!"

Lloyd quickly rejoined the others, and with a resounding sigh, Raine reluctantly followed him, reverently dragging one wistful hand along the dais' surface as she did so. "I wanted to study it more…"

Harley and Linar managed to sneak away unseen, but the Chosen's group was not quite as lucky, and received dubious glares from the Mayor and his companions as they quietly made their way back down the stairs. Once at the bottom, Lloyd turned and glanced back up curiously, just barely making out the tips of those intimidating statues at the top of the hill. "Who were those two guys?"

Colette's head tilted to one side. "I wonder why they wanted to destroy the ruin?"

"Yes!" Raine suddenly burst forth between them, a cloud of certitude. "The ruin! We have to stop them from engaging in such foolish acts again. Let's go, Lloyd!"

"Wh-what? You want to go find them?"

"Of course!" She pressed one hand to her chest. "It is now my duty to protect this priceless artifact."

Lloyd sighed; so did Genis, in hopeless exasperation. "Okay…"

As she led them back into the city, Sara walked behind Colette and tapped her on the shoulder. The Chosen paused, and continued forward once Sara was beside her. "Yes?"

Sara gestured her head to Raine. "Am I missing something here?"

"Oh. Well." Colette pressed the tip of one finger thoughtfully against her chin. "The Professor is just very… passionate about some things."

" _Passionate_ ," Sara repeated, wide-eyed. "That's one word for it."


	17. Fabula (Fable)

Chapter Seventeen

 _Fabula_

* * *

In their ceaseless search for the dais-bombers, the Chosen's group stumbled upon a small, cozy library. Three of its four walls were lined with sturdy wooden shelves, all of which were completely stuffed with hundreds of books of varying thicknesses and colors. Much like the old collector's shop, it smelled of dust and history; lanterns flickered entrancingly in each corner, their flames swaying to and fro in the steady breeze from the room's lone circular, half-open window. The floor was made only of dirt, and covered in parts with thinning, crumpled rugs that Genis couldn't help straightening with the edge of one foot.

"Are we supposed to be here?" he wondered aloud. This place seemed more like someone's personal collection and less like something open to the public.

"There wasn't a sign or anything," Colette muttered, swiping gingerly at a grime-covered shelf with a few fingertips. She brought them towards her face and blew on them, watching the dust swirl lazily in the dim light. "And it doesn't look like this place is really… popular."

"I wonder why," Lloyd grumbled. His arms stayed permanently crossed over his chest, as if drawing himself inward and away from any chance brush with knowledge.

Kratos surveyed the room silently, his garnet gaze sweeping across each laden shelf. Eventually, it settled on the one against the far wall, and he stepped towards it, the dry earth chawing beneath his boots. "...Hmm."

Lloyd blinked. "'Hmm'?"

The mercenary reached for a small, unassuming book stuck in between two much larger counterparts. Along its spine, what had once been brilliant gold lettering was now faded and torn, barely readable - but this didn't seem to matter to Kratos, who stared prudently down at its cover. "This is the Cronica Angelorum."

"Cron… angewha…?"

"Oh, I've heard of that," Colette piped up excitedly, rushing to her guardian's side. "It's a fairy tale about the ancient cities of Sylvarant and Tethe'alla, and how Mithos the Hero saved the world."

"With the help of the Goddess Martel," Raine tacked on with a proud smile. "Very good, Colette."

"Mithos the Hero, huh?" Lloyd finally dropped his arms to his sides, his eyes lighting up just briefly with poorly-disguised interest. "I've never heard of it."

"That's because you've never actually finished a book," Genis muttered derisively. Lloyd ignored both him and the urge to stick his hand over his young friend's face and shove.

Kratos offered the book. Lloyd thought the expression on the older man's face was a bit strange, something close to nostalgic, or almost sentimental. "Take a look."

Lloyd opened its thin cover, using one thumb to flip the edges of every page before settling onto its beginning. Sara appeared behind him suddenly, her chin just peeking over his shoulder as she smiled. "I love fairy tales." Her elbow nudged his arm playfully. "Come on, read it out loud."

Lloyd inhaled, and began to speak - although for some reason he couldn't seem to determine the appropriate volume of his voice, as if the way the room was arranged had begun to mess with his perception of sound. He continued on, though, making what he hoped were appropriate pronunciations of several foreign words:

" _In the beginning, a vast and timeless tree grew at the heart of the world. From its branches grew an endless crop of mana, primordial element of all life. Its leaves thrummed with a boundless, vibrant energy. Humankind harnessed that mana, that energy, and ruled over the world as gods. Mana begat the study of magitechnology. This, in turn, begat war. The two great nations, Sylvarant and Tethe'alla, shared naught in common but a bitter mutual hatred. In time, their war gave rise to the Desians, a race of blind and hateful greed. They drove the world to its knees, and nearly extinguished all life upon it."_

"Prim _or_ dial, and be _gat,_ " the Professor corrected instantly, though she met Lloyd's perturbed glare with an almost impressed smirk. "However, good job overall. The author obviously has a tendency to overuse complex grammar."

"Blame the translator, not the author," Kratos muttered. "The Cronica Angelorum was originally written in the angelic language."

At this, Raine eyed him with sudden scrutiny… because that was a fact that not even _she_ knew, which made her wonder even more intensely how on earth he did.

Lloyd hadn't stopped staring at the book. He flipped another page. "It looks like there's a second part."

"Really?" Sara's smile widened into an elated, childlike grin. She bounced up and down on her toes. "Keep going, then!"

With a clear of his throat, he did:

" _Taking pity upon mankind and his folly, the Goddess Martel sent unto the world a boy to serve as her agent. He brought the warring nations to accord, sealed away the Desians, and restored peace to the world. So spoke the king of Tethe'alla: 'As penance for bringing war upon this land, we will leave it for all time.' Upon hearing those words, Mithos drew upon the divine power of Martel to erect a tower that reached the heavens."_

"W-wait, so…" Sara scratched at the back of her head. "That's the Tower of Salvation, right? I thought this was a fairy tale, though…"

"All fairy tales grow from a seed of truth," Kratos said quietly.

"There's just a little more," Lloyd announced, and ceremoniously straightened his back.

" _The people of Tethe'alla scaled this tower, never halting their march until they had come to live upon the moon. The king of Sylvarant spoke thusly: 'Let us construct a portal to link our worlds, that we may not forever lose our bond with our brothers of Tethe'alla.' Hearing honest love and contrition in the king's plea, Mithos once more called upon the power of the Goddess. Serving as her instrument, he created a great stone gate that would open only when the moon was full."_

Lloyd instantly had a vision of an endless ladder on one side of the Tower of Salvation, and a similarly endless stream of people climbing its rungs into the sky. They had to be tired after such a long climb; their arms shook, and their faces were all a matching shade of red from exertion. And sweaty. "So the people of Tethe'alla really went to the moon?" he said finally, with a slight wrinkle to his nose.

"It's just a story, Lloyd," Genis mumbled.

The book in Lloyd's hands closed with a weary creak. "Is there more? That was a weird place to end everything."

"There is a second volume," Kratos affirmed, with one more glance around the room. "But it doesn't seem to be here. Perhaps we will come across it in later travels."

Lloyd nodded, and handed the book back to him. "I hope so."

Colette suddenly sneezed loudly, which sent her stumbling backwards and bumping into one of the bookshelves; thankfully none of them fell, although a few teetered dangerously near the edge. As she passed the edge of one finger beneath her nose, her eyes widened and she smiled sheepishly. "Oops…"

"I think that's our cue to leave," Raine sighed.

* * *

Asgard split off from its market and business districts into a quiet, quaint residential area, although dividing the two was another cave hewn into the mountain's face. Beside it stood a pair of signs, one of which had been slashed in half - the other displayed a rather crude depiction of a dragon, with mottled paint and a worn message to stay back. From inside, a low hum of growls and stomps vibrated the ground. The breeze issuing forth from its opening felt unnaturally warm, entirely unlike the Shrine of the Rite they'd visited earlier.

Lloyd grinned over at Sara. "I'm guessing this is where the dragons all roost once they reach Asgard?"

She nodded; they all paused before the cave's entrance, glancing curiously into its mouth. "Yeah. I've been here many times," she offered, though her voice seemed a bit downtrodden. "It's… different now, though. Not nearly as active. I guess I didn't realize how quickly things had started to go downhill."

Her head suddenly perked up, and her umber eyes locked onto something over Lloyd's shoulder. He turned to see what caught her attention, as did the others. A man dressed in a stained smock was leading a saddled dragon down a dirt path, past shops and hotels and towards the rocky face they stood just beside. He wore thick, protective leather gloves over his hands, in which he gripped a beaded chain that trailed up to the dragon's snout and curled behind its scarred, withered horns. Its scales at one time had probably shone with rich hues of emerald and gold, although the life had left these colors long ago, and all that remained was a disconsolate mixture of sickly, ashen green and sand-brown. Fragile legs forced it to lumber after its leader as its wings trailed behind it, dragging through the dirt and leaving a pair of dusty lines in its wake.

Sara's hands instantly crunched into fists. Her gaze followed the pair with unwavering scrutiny.

Without a word, she stomped purposefully after them.

Lloyd looked around at his companions for some sort of clue as to what should happen next. Colette stared back at him warily, waiting for his answer; Genis and Raine were doing the same, although the former's terse frown suggested an opinion of its own. Kratos, however, turned and followed without hesitance. Lloyd figured that was good enough, and did the same.

The cave's floor was lined with straw, although the damp air softened its crunch beneath their feet. Wrought-iron lanterns lined the walls, and appeared on their last bits of light judging by the long, drooping trails of white wax dangling from each one's bottom edge. At the end of the opening stood an expansive pen, lined with scratched wooden posts linked together by lengths of fraying rope. Everything smelled musty and dead. A few handlers milled about silently, wearing similar smocks, robotically dispersing buckets of feed and water and raking used straw.

When they caught up with Sara, she'd wasted no time in confronting that pathetic dragon's handler. It stood behind him wearily, its eyes half-closed and staring forward as its ribbed chest expanded and contracted in slow, languid breaths.

"What kind of operation do you think you're running here?" Sara said thinly, gesturing one spiked arm to the dilapidated pens behind her. "This is disgusting. When did Asgard's standards fall so low?"

"When the owners stopped paying us enough to take care of this place," the handler retorted. "Tourism has been on the decline here for the past couple months. There's no money coming in on dragons, so there's no money to keep up with their care."

"Excuses," Sara growled. "You have to find a way. These dragons are sick. You're killing them."

The handler held up his hands in prostration, inadvertently jarring the head of the dragon behind him; it seemed to hardly notice, and instead plodded forward obediently. Sara immediately swiped the lead from his hand and elbowed him out of the way. He shook his head and stared at her strangely. "Uh, who are you exactly?"

Sara sighed and gently stroked beneath the dragon's slim jaw. "I'm from Kozei. And I know enough to see what's going on here."

The man's eyes widened. "If you're from Kozei, you have to know that the Desians attacked and bought up nearly all their dragons. Took them away somewhere, which means even less business for us." His voice dropped low. "I even heard the mayor of Kozei was killed in the attack."

The hand Sara had placed on the dragon's jaw halted abruptly. Her frame went rigid, and she had to swallow several times to tamper down the bile surging up her throat. "I… I don't need reminding." She glared back at him over one tense shoulder. "Who's in charge here?"

"Tch, not me," he scoffed. "I'm just a handler. This place is owned by Troy and his son Arno." He jabbed one thumb towards the ceiling. "They also own the weapons shop up the hill."

Sara turned around and dropped the dragon's lead. "The weapons shop?"

"Yeah, Cyclone. The son Arno is a hothead," he continued distastefully. "Really into dueling and swords, and gets angry in a second flat. If you go there, be careful around him."

With one last glance back at the skeletal dragon, she stepped away and towards Lloyd. Her eyes stayed trained on the ground until she paused before him, when they raised to his hopefully. "...Lloyd. Can we…"  
"You don't even have to ask." He headed for the exit, waving her to follow with a determined smile. "Let's go."

* * *

Cyclone wasn't much to look at either. The shop was one room, at the back of which sat a pair of waist-high wooden counters. One was lined with shields made of varying materials and sizes, while the other displayed a collection of swords and sabers, some curved or formed into strange, deadly shapes. A low ceiling loomed almost ominously; more pieces of armor dangled from it, hovering just inches above the average shopper's head. A few other customers busied themselves with inspecting merchandise just as Lloyd and Sara entered simultaneously, with the rest of their group trailing in behind them.

A bulky man with a square jaw and buzzed brown hair stood behind the weapons counter. Beside him, an older man was bent over a small stool, idly polishing a rusty saber with a rough cloth. The younger one gave the Chosen's group a confident smile as they approached. He donned his own armor, including a silver breastplate, flared gauntlets and thick metal boots strapped together with throngs of leather. His deep voice seemed to ooze from oversized shapely lips, slick and dark like a puddle of oil. "Welcome, travelers. In need of weapons today?"

Sara frowned and shook her head. "Not exactly. We're looking for Troy and Arno."

"That's us," he said proudly, those lips stretching into a smug grin and revealing blindingly white, straight teeth. "I'm Arno, and this is my father, Troy." Here, he gestured to the older man, who looked up at them and nodded once, as if a disgruntled animal curiously poking its head upwards from an underground lair. "What can we do for you?"

Sara stood up tall, inclining her head; the fists at her sides remained solid as blocks of stone. "My name is Sara. These are my friends. I'm a dragon handler from Kozei." A confident step forward. "And I'm here to tell you to put an end to your dragon business. It's beyond substandard, and it's making all of the dragons sick."

The air in the room thinned. Other customers paused and glanced at her in curiosity and astonishment, but Arno himself simply chuckled and crossed his burly, rather hairy arms. His father stood, dropping the cloth in his hand to the countertop and planting his wrinkled hands firmly on either side of it as he leaned forward.

"Heh, who do you think you are? That's _my_ business. I built it from the ground up, just like this shop." Around his eyes, more wrinkles creased as he gave Sara an irate glare; she swore she could hear them crunch together. "And I'll run it however I want."

"My father's right," Arno tacked on, mirroring Sara's raised chin. "It's not your concern. Now get out of here."

"The pens are _disgusting_ ," Sara continued resolutely. Familiar rage flared, hot and bright, but she tamped it instead into commanding resolve. "The dragons are overworked and underfed. They'll die if you keep them like this. I'm not leaving until you agree to set them free."

The front door opened, a deafening creak in the tense silence. Cautiously, each remaining customer filed outside in a series of soft, winglike shuffles. Colette wore a nervous grimace, and hovered instinctively behind Lloyd, who reflected Sara's determination. Genis and Raine looked similarly obstinate, while Kratos simply stared ahead with slightly-narrowed cinnamon eyes.

Arno dropped his arms to his sides and stepped out from around the counter. His boots clanked and creaked against the wooden floor. He stopped only when he came close enough that his steady, oxlike exhales ruffled Sara's fiery hair.

"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time: _leave."_

Lloyd immediately made a swift motion forward - what kind of _scumbag_ would threaten a woman like that? - but Sara held out one hand to stop him. He jarred to a halt just behind her, his chest banging into her forearm. His bright face became a mask of furious disgust; he kept gripping the hilts of his blades, the fire in his russet gaze blazing bright enough to set the man aflame.

"Arno, right?" Sara began, strangely and serenely calm, with a wry smirk. "I've heard you're a talented duelist. How about we have a duel? If I win, the dragons go free. If you win…" She pulled a coin purse from the bag over her shoulder; the bag jangled loudly and overflowed her palm. "I'll give you all of our gald."

Raine and Genis both gawked at this suggestion. The Professor began to utter her disagreeance, but Arno spoke before she had a chance to begin.

"Don't make me laugh," he sneered, raking Sara up and down with a predatory glare. "You don't even have a sword. There's no way you'd win against me."

Lloyd lurched forward again. "Then fight _me_!"

Sara's head whipped around, her jaw dropping. "Lloyd…"

"I've got swords," he continued, smirking confidently, drawing his blades halfway. "I'll duel you, then."

Arno snorted a laugh. "Two swords? You've _got_ to be kidding. What idiot fights with two swords? I'd tear you up in three seconds."

Lloyd's hands shook. His Exsphere began gleaming brightly. "Grr… you stupid…"

"I've never lost a duel," Arno cut in. He palmed the hilt of one heavy longsword resting on the counter beside him, and held it up dauntlessly before his broad chest. "Believe me, I'm good at telling who's a challenge or not." He flicked the sword's tip towards Kratos, who continued standing still as a statue. "The only one of you I'd even consider fighting is this guy."

Every eye in the room went to the mercenary. Sara mumbled his name in a quiet question.

"You've got a sword," Arno said, still sneering, "although no shield or armor, so I'll have the advantage - but hey, I need to let off some steam, and I could use a nice bonus. How about it?"

Sara approached Kratos, shaking her head and speaking in a biting, desperate whisper. "...You don't have to do this. I don't want anyone fighting my battles for me."

Kratos turned his head just slightly to look at her. The expression on her freckled face was foreign to him - one of pleading, a sort of desperate restraint. He found himself strongly disliking it, and never wanting to see it again. For a few seconds, he stared wordlessly into her eyes - and then his own slowly closed as he bowed his burgundy head.

"...I accept," he said.

"Excellent!" Arno rested the sword across one shoulder and grinned back at Troy. "Father, just watch. I'm about to pay for that expansion we've been wanting."

"That's my boy," Troy laughed darkly.

"Alright, meet me outside the shop in five minutes," Arno instructed. "And you might want to get your pockets empty already. This'll be quick."

* * *

"Dammit, Kratos…"

Sara couldn't stop pacing, although she kept giving him a livid, fuming glare. "Why'd you accept? This has nothing to do with you. I would've found some way to make him fight me, I know it."

Outside the shop, Kratos had his back casually leaned against its outer wall, his arms folded over his chest. He continued watching her, but said nothing.

"I mean…" She dragged one hand anxiously through her hair. "If you get hurt at all, I'll never get over myself."

"...Sara."

She finally paused. The dust around her restless feet slowly settled. Her look of ire melted into one of repressed interest. " _What_?"

"You discredit me if you truly believe that buffoon has any chance of winning," Kratos said calmly.

"Oh, seriously?" She rolled her eyes. Kratosian arrogance was alive and well. "It's not that I think you'll _lose…_ I just hate the thought of someone sticking their neck out for me like this."

Slowly, Kratos stepped away from the wall. He met her gaze evenly through red-brown bangs. "Do not let pride be your downfall. Learn to accept help when it is offered to you."

There was really something she should've said just now, some sort of retort about how she wasn't his student, or he had no right to lecture her, or something equally acerbic, but… she instantly forgot. It probably had a bit to do with his voice and how he'd spoken: he sounded impossibly gentle, and far less like an admonishing mentor.

Sara let out a rough breath and, much like a resigned toddler after a long, unfruitful battle of will, managed: "...Alright. Fine."

Kratos halted just beside her as he turned to face the shop's entrance. His left hand proactively gripped and positioned the scabbard hanging at his hip, as it had done countless times. The edge of his mouth lifted just slightly as he glanced at Sara from the corner of one cinnamon eye.

"Trust me," he murmured.

She nodded, and was probably blushing, but whatever. "...That's all I've ever done."

Cyclone's door burst open. Arno stood in the entrance, a massive, solid meat sack; he'd traded in the tarnished parts of his armor for gleaming replacements, and currently appeared more metal than man. His strong, chiseled face beamed with tenacity and glee; in his right arm he held that same hefty longsword, nearly two-thirds of his impressive height. On his left forearm was strapped a yard-wide metal shield, inlaid with intricate designs of shrieking falcons crossing their talons in battle.

Kratos stepped forward silently; though he clearly weighed half of his opponent and wore none of his armor, each of his movements still radiated lithe, beastlike self-assurety.

"State your rules," he commanded.

Arno seemed taken aback by this. His mouth was already open, and he'd apparently been on the verge of some degrading speech that Kratos had seen fit to cut short. Arno scowled and squared his mammoth shoulders. "Simple. A fair fight: until death or yield."

Kratos nodded - a quiet, near-imperceptible twitch of his head. "Agreed."

...Arno then found himself with a blade at his throat.

In literally the nick of time, he managed to parry this offense with his shield. Kratos darted backwards, a royal blue blur, his white and grey boots scraping long trails in the dusty earth.

Arno opened his mouth again and began to speak. Kratos found this rather annoying. His left hand remained leisurely on his scabbard. He sprinted forward; in three bounding steps, he'd sliced the breastplate from Arno's torso, cutting cleanly through its pair of straps with only a faint breeze ever telling of his presence. Arno turned to give a counter strike, which missed in sync with his armor clattering to the ground before his feet.

He heaved for breath that couldn't seem to make it into his lungs quickly enough. Kratos stood a few yards away, his sword poised and ready, and his chest contrarily rising and falling in its usual unhurried, steady rhythm. Arno gripped his longsword with both hands, and with a mighty roar charged forward, each of his giant stomps leaving craters in the earth. When he swung, he hit only air; as a result he stumbled off-balance.

Impossibly, Kratos was right behind him - and Arno found himself falling face-first into the dirt after a well-placed kick to his back. He managed to hold onto his longsword with one hand while he barely caught himself with the other, and ended up landing hard on his right side, his shoulder guard screeching against the ground.

Kratos simply observed this in a mixture of amusement and disgust. "Size does not equal strength," he stated factually.

Arno snarled through gritted teeth as he whipped himself over and started getting to his feet. Before he could get a solid grip on his longsword once more, he heard the crack of steel against steel, and it flew from his hand to clatter rather poetically just beside his fallen breastplate.

When he turned his head towards Kratos once more, he had to pause halfway or else slice his jaw on the tip of the mercenary's blade.

"H-how did-"

Kratos narrowed his eyes, his outstretched arm unwavering. "Blame your fate."

Arno's gaze flicked to his sword. Kratos noticed this instantly; without moving his head at all, he shot out one foot and shoved the weapon away, out of any hope of reach.

"As you stated before:" Kratos began icily, "death, or yield."

Arno swallowed hard and took a hesitant step back. "I… yield."

At once, Kratos sheathed his sword. "Good. Return to your shop, and see to it that we are not disturbed." And with that, he walked away and towards his waiting companions, who were all staring at him in varying forms of astonishment and joviality.

Given Arno's poor attitude, Sara actually expected him to try something sneaky, like pick up his sword and rush at Kratos from behind. She glared caustically at him over Kratos' approaching shoulder, watching for any sign - but Arno simply stood there, looking for all the world like some poor dumbfounded animal, as if his mind were absolutely unable to process what had just happened. She smirked and breathed a smug laugh. Her right hand raised to eye level, a tight fist, before her middle finger sprung upwards just as her nose wrinkled and her tongue jutted from her mouth.

"Three seconds…" Lloyd was muttering, his brow furrowed and lips thinned in a defiant pout. "Whatever. I could've taken him too."

Kratos looked neither pleased with himself nor celebratory in any way as he stood before them. "Well, then. Shall we head back to the cave?"

"Indeed," Raine agreed impatiently, and began heading back the way they came. "This has been quite a detour. We need to finish this and refocus." Colette and Genis nodded as they walked beside her, with Lloyd behind them, who still seemed a bit put out and kept mumbling under his breath.

Now that everything had ended, Sara found herself rather unable to not look at Kratos.

This was not the first time she'd seen him fight. By this point in the journey, they'd worked together in dozens of battles, but this one felt different. Probably because it had been… for her.

Her gaze felt magnetically drawn to his face. She kept trying to be subtle about it by limiting each glance to a quick turn of her head or eyes, but he caught on quickly and gave her a curious frown. "What?"

" _Nothing_ , dammit," she growled, twisting her head away, fiercely hoping that her face didn't look nearly as on-fire as it felt. She cleared her throat; one hand nervously fiddled with and twisted the amulet dangling from her neck.

"You didn't have to do that," she continued gently, and finally allowed her eyes to meet his. "Just… thank you, Kratos."

His frown softened and almost, _almost_ formed an honest smile. He much preferred this grateful, albeit embarrassed expression. He bowed his head cordially. "Let's set those poor beasts free and be on our way."

* * *

Colette watched the last dragon flit away into the wind, her hands clasped atop her chest with practiced deference. "Do you really think they'll be okay, Sara?"

"Definitely," Sara said proudly. "The medicine we gave them should help them get back to healthy weights. Maybe we'll run into them again someday."

Colette swept her hair over one shoulder as she beamed up at Sara. "I hope so!"

"Not to ruin the moment," Genis started, staring pointedly at a house just beside the cave entrance where they stood. "But I just saw one of those guys from the ruin go through that door." He gestured forward with one small finger.

Raine's eyes popped open wide. "What? After him, at once!"

When she threw open the front door, the rest of her group stood a little ways behind her, flinching nervously. This was certainly one way to make an entrance…

The house was small and cozy, with wooden walls and deep green and blue rugs spread across the stone floor. Thankfully, no one was in the front room at the moment, which eased Genis' awkward hesitance just slightly. They all slowly filtered in, and Colette had just shut the front door when they heard footsteps from the floor above; seconds later, Harley trotted down a staircase on the far wall, and dropped his jaw at the sight of his unexpected guests.

"Y-You're those tourists from earlier!" he stammered, nearly missing the last step and tumbling forward.

"I am a _scholar,"_ Raine corrected tersely. She'd been eyeing the the room with fiery immersion that now settled on Harley, who managed to turn his shock into an annoyed frown.

"Whatever," he grumbled. "Now get out!"

"Wait," a female voice said from just up the stairs.

A young woman descended after him. She held one delicate hand to the wood rail, taking each step with an effortless serenity. An ankle-length sky-blue skirt swayed softly over her long legs; her hair was a few shades darker, and fell in thick layers to just past her shoulders, in stark contrast to the sleeveless white blouse she wore.

"Harley, stop it," she continued, and though she was clearly attempting to come off authoritative, her gentle, clear voice made it hard to believe. "This is my house. They can stay." She paused just beside Harley, who sighed in frustration but said nothing.

"I am Aisha," she said with a small, courteous smile that touched the corners of forest-green eyes. "I understand that you were the ones that stopped Harley and my brother Linar. Thank you." As if on cue, Linar emerged from the adjoining room with a book in his hands, and nearly dropped it when he realized his living room was now full of strangers. Now that he stood beside Aisha, their physical similarities became obvious, with matching hair and the same waifish build.

"I'm not sure 'stopped' is the best way to put it," Kratos muttered mordantly.

Harley breathed an indignant huff. "They got in our way."

"It doesn't matter what you call it," Aisha said with practiced patience. "The point is that the people of this city are the ones that would suffer if the ruin was destroyed." Here, Raine had to resist the urge to grab the girl's hand and kiss it.

Harley shook his head and stepped up to Aisha, reaching out one hand as if to touch her, but then drawing it back at the last moment. "But as things are now, you're going to be sacrificed…"

Lloyd's eyes widened. His thoughts zipped back to the gory paintings in that shrine. "Sacrificed?"

Linar anxiously smoothed his palm over his wispy hair. "It's a ritual in honor of the Summon Spirit of Wind. Aisha was chosen for it." He glanced at his sister sadly. "Originally, the ritual consisted of just dancing on the stone platform, but-"

" _This_ idiot," Harley sliced one hand towards Linar, "started meddling with the stone dais as part of his research and opened the seal."

Lloyd exchanged surprise glances with the Professor. Beside him, Colette inhaled a soft gasp.

"Because of that," Harley continued bitterly, "that Summon Spirit of Wind-thing awoke and is demanding sacrifices."

"The seal?" Raine echoed. "Do you mean-"

Linar nodded and forced a timid smile. "Yes. If you, too, are researching the Balacruf ruins, then you must be aware of the altar erected in praise of the Summon Spirit of Wind. The seal really existed, just as the legend said."

This sense of excitement flew far over Lloyd's head, but Raine caught plenty of it. Her eyes lit up again with unrestrained voracity. "Are you saying that the Balacruf Pillar hieroglyphics are not just a myth?!"

Colette, too, looked rather lost. "Wha…?"

"It sounds like this isn't the seal we're looking for," Kratos suggested. "None of the others required a sacrifice. It is likely this 'seal' is unrelated to the Journey of Regeneration."

Raine frowned at him. "But, the dais is-"

"Sis," Genis chided. "Aren't you forgetting why we're on this journey?"

Kratos shrugged; though no one noticed, this action from such stoic, tense shoulders seemed remarkably out of place. "Well, it's all right. It's not as if it's completely out of our way."

Both Lloyd and Sara shot him the same baffled stare; he either didn't see it at all or, as usual, excelled at ignoring it.

Linar's eyes shone with a similar glint as Raine's. "In the back of the platform, there is a small indentation, and-"

"That's enough!" Harley cut in. "Aisha was chosen to be the dancer, and she's set to be sacrificed to the Summon Spirit _today_. If you won't let us destroy it, then what do you plan to do to save her?"

Aisha opened her mouth to speak but ended up closing it a moment later, and instead just released a short sigh. Colette found herself wanting to speak, too, because the somber expression on Aisha's face reminded the Chosen of looking into a mirror, and that was something she wouldn't wish on anyone.

Raine held one hand pensively to her chin. "I doubt that the mayor would let us see the ruin again. Unless, perhaps…" She snapped two fingers. "I could take your place as the dancer."

Genis balked and stammered, " _Wh-what_?!"

"Yes, that way I could see the ruin up close, and-"

"But, I…" Aisha struggled to find a bold tone of voice. "It's not right for you to take my place."

"There's nothing to worry about," Raine assured, gesturing back at her companions with a sweep of one arm. "Whatever this 'Summon Spirit' is, I have no doubt that we can handle it. Right, everyone?"

Several silent seconds.

Then the Chosen, with a wide grin: "Of course, Professor!"

"Excellent. Let us prepare at once." The Professor turned again to Aisha. "Am I correct in assuming there is a ceremonial outfit the dancer must wear for the ritual?"

The girl blinked at her, but managed a bewildered nod. "Yes, it's… actually laid out upstairs."

"Then I shall change clothes." And she disappeared up the stairs, pausing only to glance back once at the others. "Wait here."

Aisha's hands wrung together restlessly. Her brother repeatedly smoothed the toe of one shoe over some fraying strands of carpet. Harley, whose hands were still fists, stared irately at the far wall. In the next room, an ancient clock ticked. Lloyd idly cleared his throat and studied his Key Crest; Genis had his lips bitten together as he peered curiously up the stairs; Colette kept picking at her fingernails while Kratos could've been a handsome, dignified mannequin permanently affixed to the corner in which he stood.

"Nice place you've got here," Sara blurted.

Everyone flinched. Harley and Kratos frowned at her simultaneously.

Aisha threaded a few fingers through her cobalt hair. "Th-thanks."

Thankfully, everyone then heard footsteps from above - and Raine once again reappeared on the stairs, although she looked hardly recognizable. The dancer's outfit was simple, though still somehow managed to come off sumptuous on the Professor's form. It had straps that crossed around her neck and over her bare back; instead of connected sleeves, long gloves ran from her wrists to just beneath each shoulder. Stripes of rust red trailed down the light-brown, cream-colored silk, and a soft matching hat settled onto her silvery head.

"According to the Book of Regeneration," she began, with every bit of certainty and dignity she would've wielded from her Iselia schoolroom pulpit, "this might be the next seal. If we can meet the Summon Spirit, we should be able to tell. The sacrifice that the Summon Spirit seeks might even be the Chosen of Mana."

Colette swallowed and nodded obediently.

"Raine," Genis began worriedly, "are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"The success of our journey comes first." Raine took in a breath, and then let it out in a decisive rush. "Let's go."

* * *

Appropriately, the sun began setting as soon as Raine stepped foot onto the dais.

Behind her, and all waiting anxiously, stood her companions, as well as Asgard's mayor, who still grumbled his wrinkled share of protests despite everyone's encouragement. Genis and Colette looked on with similar expressions of wonderment; upon the misty dais, Raine in her new outfit appeared truly mythical, and the dying sun agreed as it bathed her in its conflagrant light.

She knelt first, touching one knee lightly to the grey stone, though her neck craned straight and her indigo eyes locked ahead and into the ephermeral distance. A ceremonial wooden staff rested just beside her right arm, and she palmed it, releasing a quick breath as its knotted wooden surface settled securely into her palm. It raised before her, its ornate circular top looking to crumble at any moment, though she wielded it fearlessly and without doubt.

Raine took three steps forward. Beneath her feet, a scorched marking, one of many, glared up at her. With both hands, she raised the staff before her and brought its bottom edge down with a resounding slam. As she did so, the very ground rippled with light, like surface of a glassy lake disturbed by a single stone. She repeated this process with three other circles along the dais, each forming a compass point, until she settled smoothly into the middle, where she returned to one knee.

Genis and Lloyd wore similar looks of awe; the former couldn't entirely believe that his sister had somehow metamorphosed into this otherworldly goddess, while the latter half expected her to turn around and spurt far too-familiar words of _learning_ in his face. Neither of them really had time to combat, nor understand what happened next, because that dull, dead stone on which she stood now erupted in a brilliant glow that gathered itself and crept up the trunk of her staff, swirling around its umber surface in ribbons of seafoam green.

Eventually, that light exploded out of its top - and as the flash faded, a figure appeared, hulking and massive, with a constant whirlwind twisting about its scythe-like tail. Its arms were thin and full of sinewy power. It held them at it sides confidently, with long golden claws twitching eagerly at the ends of wrinkled lavender fingers. Its face resembled that of a snake, short and spadelike, though it sported a pair of fishy fins from its muscular back. It sneered down at Raine, revealing a set of gleaming, razor teeth.

" _I have come for the girl_." The wind around its tail carried away its voice and left nothing but a hollow moan.

The Chosen's Cruxis Crystal flashed at the base of her neck. It sent a shock throughout her small frame, making her eyes go wide and her jaw drop. "That's not- No, Professor!" As she spoke, the monster glared over Raine's head and at Colette. Though it remained motionless, its thin, dry lips curled into a demonic smile.

"That is an evil creature," Colette assured. "It's not the guardian of the seal!"

And that was all it took for Lloyd to leap atop the dais, blades ready. "Let's take it down!"

Raine herself reacted first, whisking a spell atop the tip of her staff as Lloyd charged forward. Though the monster countered his attack with a well-placed wind spell, he was undeterred, and met what he considered a lame offensive with a combination of thrusts and slashes. The others joined him a moment later, dodging and countering swipes of its razorlike tail and claws. The battle lasted a few minutes, with Lloyd and Sara providing their usual frontline roles of distraction and offense, while Kratos, Genis and Colette offered magical support and the Professor healed them all as necessary.

Aisha and her companions, as well as the Mayor himself, stood back and watched in disbelief as the creature finally drew its last rattling breaths and collapsed to the ground. It reached out one arm towards Colette, struggling towards her even as it stilled and began fading away. She stared back at it, her small face a shapely, delicate mask of resolution.

Linar broke the stunned silence: "Fantastic! You're _fantastic_ , Raine!"

Though she knew she probably shouldn't be showing it so forwardly, the Professor was in fact quite pleased with herself, as evidenced in the dainty smirk tugging at her mouth. She leapt down off of the dais and idly brushed her hands off on her baggy, rust-red pants. "Hah. It was hardly a challenging opponent."

Aisha bowed deeply. "Thank you very much."

"Uh, Professor?" Lloyd noticed a small stone tablet that had appeared after the creature had vanished. Curiously, he picked it up in one hand and turned it back and forth in front of his eyes, noticing a detailed network of lines and script carved into its surface. "The monster left this thing. It looks important." He jumped to the ground beside Raine and handed it to her.

"Perfect," she beamed. "This is the Map of Balacruf. Do you see these inscriptions? This is ancient Balacruf writing…" Lloyd backed away slowly, as if timidly sneaking away from a sleeping monster.

Harley looked puzzled as he continued staring at the dais. "That thing wasn't the Summon Spirit of wind after all."

Genis glanced up at his sister proudly. "I bet Raine will find out what it really was."

"Yeah, you guys are half-elves, after all," Harley said. "We can count on your wisdom."

Both Raine and Genis suddenly froze. Their eyes locked, wide and almost panicked, before Genis whipped around to face Harley, his hands crunched into indignant fists. "N-no, you're wrong! Raine is an _elf_." He swallowed hard, his face turning seven shades of crimson. "I'm an elf, too!"

Harley's gaze darted back and forth between them. He frowned, clearly confused. "What? Surely you don't think I'd mistake my own-"

Genis lowered his head, staring pleadingly at him between strands of silver bangs. His flustered rage thinned into desperation. He felt every eye lock onto him like a predator homing onto its prey; the very air seemed bent on crushing him flat into the earth.

Quickly, Harley cleared his throat and shook his head. A dismissive smile took over his face as he laughed clumsily. "Ah, actually, I guess I was wrong. It seems you two are pureblooded elves. I must not have paying careful attention."

"At any rate," Raine said, once again returning her attention to the tablet in her hands. "We must figure out some way to decipher this writing. I'm sure it's the key to locating the next seal."

Linar nodded fervently, in the process jarring his glasses down the bridge of his nose, which he corrected with one fingertip. "Let's decipher it right away. I have the necessary materials assembled back at home."

"Asgard's finest hotel is not far from us," Aisha offered, stepping up beside her brother. "I would offer you space at our home, but I'm afraid there isn't enough for everyone. Please let us arrange for your rooms at the hotel tonight."

"That's very kind of you," Colette chirped. "Thank you, Aisha."

Linar lead the way down the stairs once more, with Raine close behind him, cradling the tablet protectively against her chest. She looked back at the others over one bare shoulder. "I will join you once our research is complete."

The Mayor watched them go, wearing a disgruntled, obstinate frown. He gestured after them with the end of his cane. "Now, you all get out of here too. I think you've caused enough excitement for one day."

Lloyd and Colette went first, with Genis and Kratos just behind them. Sara was last, and she gave the older man a bitter glare as she took one lunging step towards him. He gasped and nearly toppled backwards.

" _You're welcome,_ " she hissed, and swirled away.

Just in case, Lloyd held one of Colette's hands down the steep staircase. "That was quite a 'Summon Spirit of Wind,' wasn't it?"

She nodded, though most of her concentration went into not missing a step. "But thanks to that, we now -whoa- know where the real seal is, so that's -ahh!- good, right?"

"Yeah." Lloyd thought of monsters and traps and ancient ruins. And the Seal of Wind? At least it sounded a bit less hot and damp than their last two adventures. "I wonder what the next seal is going to be like?"

Finally, the stairs ended. Colette paused; her tiny hand remained inside of Lloyd's, and she brought her other on top of his as she beamed up at him, her sapphire eyes gleaming with adoring hope. "I'm a little scared. But you're with me, so it'll be okay, right?"

Without a trace of hesitance, Lloyd nodded and smiled too. "Yeah! Leave it to me."

"Okay!"

* * *

A/N: Hello! The Cronica Angelorum is actually found in the game, in Asgard's little library. It was fun to incorporate that into this story. Also, I loved writing that sweet scene where Kratos one-on-one duels the tough guy... it never ends well for the tough guy. Because Kratos. Duh. "Blame your fate!"


	18. Tantibus (Nightmare)

Chapter Eighteen

 _Tantibus_

* * *

" _De mortuis nil nisi bonum."_

A wide grin brightened Colette's face. "That's really good! But just a little more emphasis on the first syllable, _mor._ "

" _Mor_ tuis," Genis repeated. The small, leather-bound book in his hands whined in protest as he pried it open wider to flip back and forth between a pair of pages. "That means 'dead,' right?"

Kratos nodded. The chair he sat in beside the heavy, solid wooden table was oddly-shaped and had a curved back that he found rather uncomfortable, so he leaned forward instead and rested his forearms on the table's surface. This gesture was innocent, but Genis, who sat across from him, didn't know that. Reflexively, the young mage's spine straightened and his eyes went wide. "I-it doesn't?"

Kratos either failed to notice his discomfort or ignored it entirely. " _Mortuis_ translates into the noun form of 'dead', not the adjective. It is used only when referring to those who have died."

Pencil met paper instantly. "Oh, that makes sense," Genis mumbled excitedly. "So, then _bonum_ means 'speak ill?"

"Not exactly," Kratos corrected, and finally leaned back in his chair as he took an unhurried sip of tea from a small ceramic cup in one hand. "The direct translation of that sentence means 'of the dead, nothing but good' - however, in the common tongue, this is grammatically incorrect and does not sound appropriate. So, a freer and more eloquent translation is: 'Do not speak ill of the dead.'"

"The angelic language is only a framework for the common tongue," Colette added. "It hardly ever gives a direct translation."

That meant there was room for interpretation and creative translation… Much like his sister's had earlier in the day, Genis' eyes lit up with glee. "That's so awesome. It's like putting pieces of a puzzle together." In between writing more notes, he glanced across the table. "I know Colette learned this stuff from the Church, but where did you learn it, Kratos?"

"There was no one method, truly," the mercenary began evenly. "In my travels I have met and spoken with many others. Gradually, the angelic language became second nature."

"I hope it does for me, too," Genis beamed, somehow continuing to write notes though his attention was elsewhere. "I know everything there is to know about math, but I've never learned another language before."

Over the rim of his cup, Kratos ever-so-subtly quirked one eyebrow. "Raine has taught you the fundamental theorem of calculus? Functional limits, algebra, geometry?"

A silver head shook back and forth. "Nah, she's not very good at math. Not as good as me, anyway. I taught myself."

"Genis wanted to go to the Palmacosta Academy once he got old enough," Colette offered with a warm smile. "I know he wouldn't have any problems getting in."

That fervent note-taking slowed down until it stopped entirely. The younger Sage seemed to darken, as if a cloud had moved in on his thoughts. His small shoulders slackened and slumped. "Yeah, but it's not like that's gonna happen anymore."

"Oh." Colette frowned and looked down at her hands. "Y-yes. I'm sorry, Genis. But, um… when I regenerate the world, and the Desians are all gone, maybe you can go then."

Kratos looked back and forth silently between both children. It took a few seconds, but eventually Genis noticed the Chosen's downtrodden expression. He grimaced, fidgeting absently with the corner of one notebook page. "Hey, I doubt even the Palmacosta Academy would teach me the angelic language." He set his pencil down and smiled. "So in a way, you're even better than them, Colette!"

Slowly, she smiled too. "Well, then, let's move onto your next lesson. How does sentence structure sound to you, Assistant Professor Kratos?" She and Genis both snickered quiet laughs.

Kratos sighed and drained the last of his tea. As he set the mug down, he gave Colette a ceremonious, sitting version of a half-bow. "An excellent choice, Chosen."

* * *

Sara fit in with this place about as well as a snowball in the desert. Plush carpets, rich hardwood floors, gleaming chandeliers… Asgard's finest hotel was solid gold, while she was more of an aged, polished wood. Alone, she headed down the hallway just outside of her room, completely unable to spend another minute in its four-posted confines without going slightly crazy. At the end of the hall was a glorious, illuminated sign assuring an exit, or at least somewhere that led to one. She kept her gaze forward with all the focus of a trained soldier.

Speaking of polished wood, her right hand went to its familiar place on her hip and palmed her trusty flask. A young couple exited their room a few doors ahead of her, all aflutter and giggling with blissful ignorance.

As she stalked past, Sara stared them both straight in the eye and took a generous swig.

The girl - blonde, smooth-skinned and completely innocent - stopped midway in her overzealous hug to gawk over her man's shoulder. Sara barely avoided cackling whiskey up her nose and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Behind her, she heard them traipse off into the night, muttering distasteful under-breath comments, while she continued her path forward - only to pause at the sound of something loud thumping against the wall of the room beside her.

Her eyes widened. She cocked her head in the direction of the door, the flask in her hand slowly lowering to her side once more, forgotten. _Thunk! Slam!_ That sound rattled the brass plate on the door - wait, it looked familiar for some reason. She narrowed her eyes at its metallic numbers. Lloyd. This was Lloyd's room.

Curiosity and amusement simmered into worry. Her knuckles went first to her chin, before finally rapping a few times against the door. Nothing happened. Determination scrunched her face into a tight ball. She inhaled and pressed down on the - of course - gold door handle. It opened instantly.

His room was dark save for a halfway-open window against the far wall. Moonlight provided a meager guide. She spotted a pair of feet dangling off the mattress, which, like her own bed, was surrounded by a quadruplet of massive bedposts. Lloyd never slept conventionally - in this case, thanks to whatever dream hovered in his head, he'd rammed his fist into the wall several times, enough to leave just a slight indent. Well, um. They'd just have to find a way to cover that up later. A shift of the bed might work…

Abruptly, he flipped over onto his back like some flailing animal. Sara held her breath as his own began bursting forth. She lunged for him with sudden, maddening urgency and sat down on the edge of the bed, her tone rough with a mixture of alcohol and emotion: "Hey. Hey, kid. Wake up."

He tossed and turned a few more times, shielding his face with his arms before slamming them into the sheets. She barely dodged another errant fist. "Dammit, wake _up_!"

And he did, his body crunching into an L-shape as he sat up straight with impossible speed. He didn't look at her. Air rushed in and out of his chest. Sara swallowed and waved a hand over his eyes, which, with a sharp inhale, met hers.

"Hi, Lloyd," she said.

A few gulped breaths. Perspiration on a russet hairline. Then, a slow nod. "H-hi, Sara."

She nodded and cleared her throat. "You okay? Sounded like you were having one hell of a nightmare."

What? Why was she _here_? No one had been here like this before. No one had ever been…

"It happens," he said, shivering. Though the room was plenty warm, he hugged his arms around his own torso. "Not all the time, but…"

"Enough," she finished. A spare blanket rested atop the thick comforter near his feet, fluffy and wine-red, and she picked it up to draw it around his tense shoulders. He let out a grateful sigh.

"It's over now, Lloyd," Sara assured, hoping her voice was just the right amount of gentle. "Want to talk about it?"

Yes. No, wait. Kind of… Not really? He sighed again and half-smiled, half-grimaced. "Nah. I'm okay."

"Think you can sleep?"

Though it looked difficult for him to do so, bit by bit, Lloyd nodded. "Think so."

Sara's desire to trust his judgement remained as strong as her sense of responsibility for his well-being. He looked so strangely pathetic sitting there, curled into a ball. Slowly, guided by invisible strings of a foreign, yet remarkably persistent protective maternity, her hand reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Cool. Just let me know if you change your mind. I'll be up on the balcony."

And she was already at his door when she heard, in a quiet, thick voice: "Okay. Thanks, Sara."

"Goodnight, kid." Sara flicked her head once to clear away her bangs. She smiled, and winked knowingly. Then the door opened, and she was gone, and Lloyd had never found a pillow quite so comfortable.

His hand kind of hurt, though.

* * *

Asgard's wind made for some pretty spectacular views of the stars.

Raine stared at them, her jaw tilted upwards, reverent and thin. Clouds didn't seem to exist here - if they were stubborn enough to make an appearance, it was for a few mere seconds before they split apart and flit into the charcoal backdrop. The climate, surely, had something to do with this as well; with the abundance of rocky terrain and lack of vegetation, there couldn't have been much moisture to feed the sky.

She knew it was late. _Too_ late. The often overabundant, rational part of her mind had been ordering her to bed for the past several hours, but her heart wouldn't comply. It beat passionately and energetically in its rebellion. Her thoughts swirled with new knowledge, and a renewed array of possibilities that remained just as frustratingly unpredictable as the beginning of this Journey of Regeneration. Raine imagined a day when her wandering thoughts would snap together in a clear, crystalline picture of realization - and after that, everything would be easy.

But so far, that hadn't happened. Ignorance, she'd chalked it up to. Childlike hope that had no place in her head. She always was critical of herself, often times to her own detriment - but it's what kept her focused. Sharp. It's what had saved her own life, and the lives of many others, several times; she wouldn't trade it for anything. Unwittingly, she smiled a little.

To her left, a door opened. Raine's head didn't move, but her indigo eyes slid sideways in a surreptitious evaluation. The wooden balcony rail remained beneath her hands, which tightened just slightly, her fingernails biting into the windbitten oak.

"...Raine?" She heard, in a familiar, raspy female voice.

At last, she turned away from the sky. Sara was just closing the balcony door, a look of startled interest on her freckled face.

"Oh. Sara," the Professor began evenly. "Good evening. I… didn't think anyone else was awake."

The older woman smoothed errant, flamelike strands of hair back from her cheeks. After a few steps, she paused beside Raine, joining in her stare towards the distance. "I, uh… don't sleep much lately. Not by choice, really, but… anyway. Why are you up?"

Raine frowned and breathed a sigh. "I myself had trouble sleeping."

"Too excited about deciphering that tablet, huh?" Sara asked with a smirk.

Hesitance slithered into Raine's throat, making it pause. The truth loomed on her tongue, but she bit it back. "Well, that's part of it, yes. But…" She abruptly shook her head. Though Sara's russet eyes were kind and patient, she had trouble meeting them. "I'm sorry. I should… really get to bed."

"You're half-elves, aren't you?"

 _What?!_

Raine fought to keep her eyes from popping and her jaw from dropping, although neither bodyparts heeded her order.

Sara wore only two claws, one on each of her index fingers; they scratched against the railing with a slow, soothing noise. "What Harley said… that's what's bothering you, right?"

"...What?" A scoffed laugh that the Professor hoped sounded something close to nonchalant. "No, Genis and I are -"

"I'm not sure if you know this," Sara cut in, easing both her hands into fists and gesturing her head down to them. "but dragons are able to sense the mana in someone's blood. And, well… ever since Tarja and Ko have been helping me out here, I can too."

Well. That was interesting. Not only was Raine unaware of that bit of draconian information at all, but apparently the skill could somehow be passed to a human through the abilities of an Exsphere. Briefly, her nervousness became overwhelmed with curiosity; she opened her mouth to begin asking a question, but instantly thought better of it.

"Lloyd's mana is kinda… chaotic," Sara continued, breathing a quiet laugh. "It bounces around wildly, just like him, but it's pure and strong. Colette's is ever-changing, given her angel stuff, but is always full of light and grace." Raine agreed with both of these assessments wholeheartedly, although she desired to tack on 'hopeless' and 'easily distracted' to Lloyd's description.

Sara's claws retracted as she crossed her arms and leaned her back against the railing. "Kratos' is off the charts, just this overwhelming wall of power." An ironic, though still warm, smirk. "Emphasis on 'wall.' But… there's no mistaking yours, Raine, or your brother's. It's that unmistakable blend of human and elven."

And there it was: Raine's most meticulously-kept secret, blown wide-open - a raw, aching wound that she scrambled frantically to hide and heal. She looked down at her boots. Her face flushed a rare shade of furious pink. Words wanted to pour from her mouth but got stuck in her throat like flies to flypaper; though writing and reading were two of her strongest areas, she simply couldn't figure out what to say.

She suddenly felt trapped; the vast, mountainous expanse behind her back crept inward, opaque and oppressing as a rushing landslide. Her fingernails bit into her palms, which had become suddenly moist.

"...I suppose it's useless to argue about it anymore, then," she ground out at last, still looking down. "Yes. Genis and I are half-elves, not elves. And please, don't bother with what you're about to say - believe me, I've heard it all before."

Sara's eyes widened. "Uh. What _am_ I about to say? _I_ hadn't even thought of it yet…"

"That I shouldn't have lied," Raine spat, blinking away furious tears. "That it's typical of my kind to deceive you. That you can't trust either of us anymore. That…"

"Pfffffffft." Sara grinned. One palm flattened against her stomach as she suddenly erupted in bellowing laughter.

Raine's silver head snapped up. Her mouth hung open, her own eyes popping with shock and disbelief before they thinned wrathfully. "Yes, go ahead and laugh! It's because you know I'm right. Because…"

"Raine," Sara managed, her laughs finally subsiding. She kept smiling, though, and it took every bit of the Professor's self-control not to slap it off of her face- "Get over yourself. The day I put my Exspheres on was the day I knew. I just never said anything, for two reasons."

Carefully, Raine cleared her throat. "Wh… what reasons?"

"One, it just never came up in conversation until yesterday," Sara started, sticking up the pointer finger from her right fist, and then her middle finger beside it. "Two, it's because I never gave a shit."

"...You're lying," Raine muttered quietly. She kept shaking her head. "I don't believe you…"

Those fingers now pointed straight at the Professor's chest as Sara stepped closer. All trace of her amusement had vanished; her expression became terse and sincere. "Hey, you listen to me. I'm a lot of things, Raine, but I'm _not_ a liar. Don't you _ever_ insinuate otherwise." She straightened her back to her menacing full height. "Do you think I've forgotten how you healed me that day you guys rescued me from the dragon ranch? You could've just left me there to bleed to death, but you didn't. Hell, you even _washed my clothes_ for me. Yeah, you're _such_ an untrustworthy person." She scoffed bitterly. "...Give me a break."

A sort of resigned calmness soothed Raine's flailing thoughts. She stared in wonderment at Sara's face. Her voice seemed afraid to come forth, a fragile mumble: "...No one else knows. Not Colette, or even… Lloyd."

"Why?" Sara asked gently. "Why do you hide it?"

"Oh, be serious, Sara," Raine hissed, with an exasperated fling of her arms. "I know you're pretty dense at times, but surely you can answer that question for yourself."

"I'm not asking _myself._ I'm asking _you_."

"Because… Because I worry for Genis," she blurted, continuously fighting back stupid, stubborn tears. "I don't want him to have to endure all the unwarranted hatred we would suffer otherwise. ...Because it's easier."

Sara quirked one skeptical eyebrow. "So teaching him to lie about his identity is 'easier' somehow?"

...A lifetime's worth of fear and oppression suddenly condensed itself into a bomb of frustrated, seething rage. Her gifts with magic created an incensed, incandescent shimmer all around her frame; her voice strained, a harsh, fervent shout - and Raine exploded: "What do _you_ know?! You're a _human_! You've never been forced to hide from the world for something out of your control, for… for something you were born with and can't change! You've never had to wonder about your own safety just because of your bloodline!"

"You're _WRONG!"_

Raine's next breath skidded to a halt in her throat. For a moment, she barely remembered to breathe, much less blink.

"You're _so_ wrong," Sara continued shakily, swallowing a tearful lump. She calmed her voice and met the Professor's eyes; the dragon-tamer's felt hollow, carved out with an ancient, exhausted hurt. "Yeah, I'm a human - but I know. I know _just_ what that's like, Raine."

"...What?" Raine held one hand to the rail to steady her suddenly swaying legs. "What do you mean?"

Sara inhaled deeply and held it in for several seconds. Her next words came with its release: "Well… you told me your secret. I'll tell you mine too."

Raine nodded.

"...I had an older sister," Sara muttered. "My only sibling. She was kidnapped by the Desians and sent to a human ranch when I was ten years old."

Already, Raine did not at all like where this story was going.

"I never knew what exactly they did to her," Sara added petulanty, wearing a venomous scowl, "but whatever it was, something in her blood made her a good subject for… their _experiments_. Before she died, she begged me to leave her behind and move away so that they wouldn't use me next." She paused and steadied her wavering voice. "...I've lived with that fear in the back of my mind ever since."

The bottom dropped out of Raine's chest. "Sara…"

"So, yeah. I know, Raine. I get it." Sara passed the edge of her hand swiftly over her eyes. "She didn't ask for it, and neither did I. You're the first person I've told about this. I've kept it a secret because I always felt like anyone who knew the truth would be targeted too." An acrid smile tugged at her freckled face. "But, hey, call me crazy… I'm not afraid of them anymore. I'm tired of living in fear. I just hope you consider doing the same."

And she turned away, edging her tense body towards the door - but Raine took a step forward and held out an insistent hand. "...W-wait, Sara."

She did, with a curious, almost hopeful glance back over one shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Raine breathed.

"Me too," Sara admitted with a sigh. "I know half-elves are treated awful. That must be tough. You don't deserve it."

"When we went to the Palmacosta ranch…" Raine slowly shook her head. "That must have been-"

"For what it's worth," Sara said deliberately, "even if I couldn't relate to your situation as a half-elf, I still wouldn't think any different of you. Anyone who does, well… they're an asshole. And nobody needs more than one of those."

Before she could stop it, an incredulous laugh snorted out of Raine's nose. She pressed a few fingers to its tip and hid her smile in her hand. At once, the Professor realized she had never quite known a person who could be so simultaneously similar and vastly different than herself. She felt for a moment that she should write Sara down in her book of monsters: Element, Fire. Attack, Physical. Strategy, Confusion.

"Though crude," she began roughly, though with no less of a smile, "your wisdom always seems to be remarkably on point."

The door groaned as Sara opened it. Her hand went to the back of her head where it scratched, monkeylike. Her lips pursed thoughtfully. "Thanks. ...I think."

* * *

It looked like black water.

Lloyd's nose crinkled. He'd smelt this stuff plenty of times and honestly never really _wanted_ to try it - but he'd heard of its magical properties of energy and wakefulness, and gods knew he could use that this morning. Plus, there was that time in Triet that Kratos had drank it… Was this what growing up felt like? Determined, Lloyd held his breath and began to take a swig-

"It's better if you add cream and sugar," Genis suggested with a smirk. He, Colette and Lloyd all sat at one of the inn's breakfast tables; the former two appeared status quo, with plates of fruits and pastries, well-rested and content. Lloyd couldn't say the same. Raine, Sara and Kratos apparently were not awake yet, or at the very least, had not chosen to appear downstairs.

A small metallic pitcher rested on the table before him, just beside a strangely-shaped clay bowl of sugar. Lloyd picked up the tiny pitcher, his uncoordinated fingers just barely fitting into its delicate handle, and he dumped half of its conents into his cup. The black water rose and turned a murky shade of marginally-appealing brown - almost, he thought, like chocolate. Shortly after, his other hand added three large scoops of sugar, overflowing the spoon and leaving white trails on the ocean-blue tablecloth.

"You have to _stir_ it," Genis continued flatly.

Lloyd shot his friend a frown. "Thanks, Genis." And with all the sarcastic bitterness he could muster, Lloyd stirred his cup of coffee. It _did_ smell quite a bit better. He took an experimental sip. Its warmth was foreign, and burned pleasantly down his neck.

"Not bad," he murmured, licking his lips.

"See?" Genis beamed proudly around a mouthful of cantaloupe. "Told you."

"When have _you_ ever drank coffee?"

"I've tried it before. Sis drinks it all the time."

Lloyd frowned down at his mug. Suddenly, all those mornings where he himself felt like a sack of lead, yet the Professor appeared as bright and chipper as ever… they made a lot of sense. Coffee gained a strange reverence, angel-like, just like Colette's wings, as Lloyd realized there might be some substance which could put his cognitive and not-falling-asleep abilities on par with Raine's. He downed the rest of his drink in a few, slightly painful gulps.

Just as he set down his mug, the Professor herself appeared in the dining hall, followed by Sara and Kratos. The former held that same stone tablet from yesterday in her hands, and set it down on the table in lieu of a plate. Kratos sat elegantly in his own chair, and chose to simply partake from the bowl of fruit in its center, picking up a bulbous orange and peeling it with systematic movements of his stiff fingers. Sara, however, ignored food entirely and went straight for the coffee, only to slurp it ungracefully and with repeated, loud sips shielded by hunched shoulders.

Now that their group had been more or less reunited, Raine figured this a good time to speak:

"It would appear that the monster we faced yesterday was the cause of the calamity that afflicted the ancient Balacruf Empire."

Colette sat up ramrod straight. Her throat burned all over again. "So what was that monster, exactly?"

"It seems," Raine began, glancing around at each of her companions, "that the summoner at the time used Sylph, the Summon Spirit of Wind, to seal it away, then built this stone dais to suppress the calamity."

Lloyd forgot about his coffee. He bit his bottom lip. "The Summon Spirit of Wind?"

"In preparation for the day when this calamity might reawaken," Raine continued, gesturing a few fluent fingers to the stone tablet, "he left this map in order for others to be able to locate the Summon Spirit of the Wind."

"So after many years," Colette began, her plate before her untouched, "the people of Asgard began to confuse this calamity with the Summon Spirit of Wind?"

Genis asked the most pressing question: "So now you know where the Summon Spirit of Wind is located?"

"Of course," Raine scoffed, offended. "The location of the Summon Spirit is the location of the next seal: the Balacruf Mausoleum."

Lloyd launched from his seat. His legs felt restless. He glanced around at everyone and grinned, his fatigue a mere memory (maybe the coffee worked already). "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

* * *

The first thing that met the Chosen's group at the Mausoleum was a spotted dog named Pepe.

Colette crossed beneath the stone pillars at its entrance first; Lloyd followed just behind, beside Kratos, Sara, Genis and the Professor. The Chosen stared in wonderment at each looming, moss-covered structure, wondering how old they were, what kind of things they'd seen in all their years - until a friendly, wet nose eased its way into her palm. Pepe sat patiently, his wiry white tail swishing against the ground, his pink tongue lolling happily from smiling black lips.

"What a cutie," Colette squeaked, patting his soft head.

A rather ramshackle pagoda stood just beside her, with a thatched roof and legs made of fraying wood. Beneath it sat a lone man, who'd had his back turned to them but abruptly turned around when he realized his canine companion was no longer beside him. He wore a long white tunic that spread out awkwardly over his round belly, and dark green pants that looked like they'd spent too much time in the wilderness. However, his tanned face was bright and welcoming; he grinned as he approached Colette and the others, gesturing one hand to the dog.

"I'm out for a walk with my dog," he explained, rubbing absently behind the pooch's floppy ears. "His name is Pepe. Please be nice to him."

Colette nodded fervently. "O-of course! He's adorable! Hi, Pepe!" She received a soft whine in response. Genis bent down to share in the love. Kratos walked past, disinterested and methodical, while the Professor continued ahead as if magnetically drawn to the Mausoleum's entrance. A short stone walkway led her forth, beset on both sides by half-crumbling walls made of identical grey stone. It was hard to tell this close up, but from the air, the Balacruf Mausoleum resembled a fortress, with vigilant parapets jutting up at equal intervals all along its outer walls.

Thick forests covered the immediate area, casting foreboding shade. Someone had clearly spent a lifetime constructing this place, although the surrounding foliage fought mightily to subdue its splendor: twisting, prickled vines snaked between some of the stones, forcing them at odd angles. This had to affect the integrity of the walls, and if the plant kept growing, the whole thing would someday crumble.

Lloyd had a weird feeling about this place. It felt… hollow. He stared hard at the pathway with narrowed chestnut eyes. A door seemed to be carved into the stone at the end of the stone porch. Or maybe it was just a weird decoration… he couldn't be sure yet. Either way, it piqued his interest. His feet slowly shuffled forward. An ancient pulpit, chest-height, stood just before the door; it looked like something was resting on top of it. Colette, who had finally managed to tear herself away from Pepe's soft fur, noticed this too, and approached just beside him. Lloyd eyed her carefully, his gaze darting around the area for any sign of attack. Just behind her, Kratos was doing the same. Lloyd stood up just a little bit taller.

Something on top of the pulpit began to move. An earthy scraping noise pierced the air; a small, hidden slot began opening on its surface. Raine's eyes widened, and she removed the stone tablet from her right pocket. As she did so, the slot opened wider and more quickly. She smiled triumphantly. "It seems to be responding to the Map of Balacruf."

Lloyd nodded, suddenly brimming with excitement. "Yeah, look - there's a place for it right here." He extended one hand to Raine. "Professor, I'll-" And she walked right past him and slid the tablet in herself. Lloyd dropped his hand. "Eh, fine."

She stepped back. Six pairs of eyes stared expectantly forward. For several seconds, nothing happened - Lloyd felt a disappointed curse hover on the tip of his tongue - but then, slowly, and impossibly out of thin air, an oracle stone appeared on the pulpit, too.

"Just like we thought," Lloyd beamed. "This is a seal."

Colette nodded. Her heart started to pound. She took in a long breath and released it in a rush. "Okay then. I'm going to put my hand on it." And she did so, her thin fingers easing perfectly into its depression.

Lloyd's initial instinct was right - that strange wall was indeed a door, because it lurched open with a crunch. Dust rained from the empty doorframe, forming small mounds on the ground. Beyond it was exceedingly dark - he couldn't see much at all. But he jogged forward anyway. "Let's hurry up." Pepe barked once behind them, a bid goodbye.

Raine darted forward, her eyes and staff alight. Colette looked around the cavernous room, awed, her delicate jaw dropped halfway open. Lloyd's vision gradually adjusted to the darkness. He wasn't sure where the dim, ambient light was coming from until he looked up - high above their heads, cracks in the ceiling allowed streaks of sunlight to filter inside. Wind blew in a constant stream from one end of the long hallway to the other - which was also weird, because outside the air had been very still, and there were no windows to speak of that he could see. The hair at the back of his neck prickled. "This is pretty cool! I feel like an explorer!"

Beside him, Kratos frowned hopelessly. "You always start out enthusiastic."

"There's gotta be treasure here," Sara said, grinning and rubbing her palms together. "I mean, _look_ at this place. Let's find some, Lloyd."

The mercenary's hopeless frown deepened. Ever so subtly, one of his eyes flinched. "This is not an expedition. We are here to release the-"

"I see a chest!" Lloyd announced, and promptly flit off to the right with Sara at his heels. A small wooden box sat at the end of the hall, just barely illuminated. Sara's palms lit up, fiery flashlights. She lunged ahead of him to guide their way - only to end up skidding to an abrupt halt, throwing out her arms and nearly clotheslining Lloyd, who managed out of sheer luck to not fall and impale his face onto one of the huge metal spikes that had abruptly jutted up from the floor before them. He scrambled for her arm and grabbed on, teetering on his tiptoes, terrified breaths racing in and out of his chest. Sara stared at the floor, her eyes bulging.

"The Balacruf Mauseoleum is known for its traps," Genis shouted from down the hall, singsong and smug.

"Y-yeah," Lloyd managed, calming his heart and untangling his arms from Sara's. "I knew that."

"Totally," Sara agreed, laughing nervously. "Let's go back, mmkay?"

"Yeah…"

Genis couldn't stop smirking, especially as they rejoined the group and headed off in the opposite direction, now walking slowly on imaginary eggshells.

"Those spikes were big," Colette commented cheerfully.

The wind drowned out most noise. It whispered along the back of Lloyd's neck, a constant, vigilant reminder of masked danger. He kept his blades out as they all headed deeper into the crypt. The comforting light of the entrance became pinpoint, a fading reminder of outside life. Though there was plenty of it, the air felt thin here. Beside him, something gold flashed in a brief beam of sunlight - Colette. A tiny, invaluable reminder of his purpose. She smiled at him, all bright, straight teeth and sapphire eyes. His chest felt near to bursting. He nodded, and kept walking, with strides slightly broader and braver than before.

Kratos and Raine led them all, with Genis behind his sister, Lloyd and the Chosen in the middle, and Sara bringing up the rear. After many battles, they'd figured this was the most logical of orders - Kratos hit the hardest, while the Professor excelled at defense (not to mention her ability to light up dark corridors). Genis could cast a spell ahead of Colette, and if the former three failed, Lloyd could launch forward for an attack quickly - or reverse, if the situation called for. Sara was the quickest of them all, and with instant reactions could alert them all to any danger from behind. They played their parts well, even in the foreboding depths of a thousand year-old mauseoleum.

Kratos suddenly stopped walking. Lloyd stared hard at his royal-blue back with attentive eyes; the mercenary held up one hand, shoulder level, ordering them all to halt. High above, Lloyd thought he heard the slightest hint of a sound - fluttering, a quiet rustling, and a soft cooing that melted into the wind. He held his breath. He peered upwards, frowning, glaring into the deceiving darkness. Genis and Sara were doing the same, their weapons waiting, twitching in anticipation.

Something caught the corner of Lloyd's eye. He turned just slightly, glaring over the top of Colette's head. Exquisite black feathers began to rain down between them. Each one cast a beam of darkness downward, as if eating an army of holes before his feet. They swayed serenely towards the ground, caught on the breeze, toppling and twisting in tantalizing, smooth arcs. He watched in wonderment, one of his hands drifting out, still palming the hilt of one blade, his waiting fingers just barely brushing against the feather's delicate edge-

The wind whipped to life above him; somewhere ahead, a sword glowed with ardent emerald light, and he heard a deep voice: " _Air Thrust!"_

Frenzied caws erupted in the dark. Beady, furious eyes gleamed; talons flashed, slashing wickedly just above Lloyd's head. He reflexively crossed his blades in the air, remembering with miraculous timing one of the defensive positions that had been described in Kratos' book - " _Guardian!"_ he shouted, and Colette thankfully had the right of mind to join him, her holy white cloak whispering about in the wind as she drew herself close to his side. The caws retreated further into the distance. Lloyd breathed for the first time in what felt like forever.

"We are not welcome here," Kratos warned, the green glow from his sword gradually fading. "Be on your guard." As if Lloyd already wasn't.

"Were those birds?" Colette asked, though she dreaded the answer. They probably lived here; she and her companions were walking through their home, so of course they wouldn't be welcome. She just hoped they wouldn't have to fight later like at all the other seals.

"Crows, it looked like," Raine affirmed. "Though they looked unusually large. A whole murder of them."

Sara's eyes thinned. "A what? Did you say a 'murder'?"

"The collective noun for a group of crows is a 'murder,'" Raine retorted with an erudite tilt of her chin.

"Oh, nuh-uh. I'm calling bullsh- uh, BS on that one."

"Raine is correct," Kratos intoned, although part of him wasn't sure why he was partaking in this pointless discussion. "Collective nouns can be rather odd. For instance: a group of geese is called a 'gaggle'"

Sara snorted, and attempted to cut it short by hiding her mouth in her forearm, but it didn't do much. The sound reverberated into the darkness. Lloyd and Colette giggled, adding to the noise.

" _Quiet_ ," the Professor hissed. "All of you."

"Sorry," Sara said, biting her lips together. "Just never thought I'd hear Kratos-the-mercenary say the word 'gaggle.'"

"Hippos are a 'bloat,'" Genis offered, snickering. Lloyd and Colette giggled louder. Raine's eyes rolled harder. And Kratos' sigh remained much the same.

* * *

Long distances mattered little to Noishe. His lanky legs and broad paws were meant to eat up the earth; within his cavernous chest beat a robust, loyal heart that urged his strides forward at ever-increasing speeds. Giant, sail-like, his ears pressed back against his flat head so as not to catch the wind. A long pink tongue lolled from smiling black lips. It had rained recently; his silver fur never kept the slightest bit of moisture, and instead it beaded off of each coarse strand, creating a trail of clear drops behind his paws, gleaming in the setting sun.

Noishe paused just briefly between a pair of stone pillars. His long nose tilted skyward as he sniffed the air. A spotted dog made its way out from beneath a straw pagoda just beside him; a few of the hairs along his spine pricked just slightly, along with his ears. The dog seemed friendly enough, its long white and black tail wagging upwards, its ears perked and welcoming. Noishe stepped gingerly forward, meeting nose with nose. The strange dog smelled alright, too, and that gave Noishe the all-clear to continue ahead. His nose returned once more to the dirt, where it sniffed incessantly. He'd followed The Boy's scent here; when he'd taken off on a dragon a few days ago, Noishe couldn't exactly join him. But after a few days and several hundred miles, Noishe found him again, just as he always did.

He trotted up a stone path and paused at a dark entryway. He sat down, his curious ears drooping a little. Inside felt _bad_. There were monsters… _lots_ of monsters. He wanted to check inside to make sure The Boy was alright, but found it too scary. So he sat, staring inside, and had faith that The Boy would return to him just fine if he waited patiently.

Especially now that The Man was with him. The Man always protected The Boy, no matter what it took. Noishe was good at protecting The Boy, too, but not like The Man.

Noishe heard footsteps behind him; they were light and quick, and accompanied by a scent he vaguely recognized. He stood up and turned around, his tail wagging its greeting. A young woman approached him, with a head of jet black hair pulled back in an explosive ponytail. She wore lavender robes over black leggings. A pink bow was sashed around her thin waist. She was sprinting, her arms flying out behind her, that charcoal head bent low, focused. Noishe sat down again and wagged his tail. He barked once, a playful, happy exclamation.

The woman skidded to a halt in front of him. Her hazel eyes flew open wide. Noishe thought she behaved strangely, like she wanted to come closer but couldn't. He suddenly smelled smoke - only it was a weird smoke, unilke anything he'd smelled before. He blinked and whined, inquisitive.

From this smoke appeared something sort of like himself - only _way_ smaller, and with less fur. Sheena's summon spirit settled itself onto all four of his tiny paws. He dug them into the earth, baring his needlelike fangs and flattening his triangular ears against his head. He growled adorably. Sheena watched, sweating profusely, hoping that Corinne's distraction would work.

Noishe growled, but it was more of a greeting than something meant to intimidate. Corinne made the same noise, although one third of its volume and double its cuteness. Noishe's ears twitched. He slowly sat down. He didn't really know how to deal with this strange creature, so he just looked at it. Corinne growled again, and his blue tails puffed.

Sheena wondered absently what the two creatures were talking about before she sprinted inside.

Everything was going as planned this time. She wouldn't fail again.


	19. Sustinere (Support)

Chapter Nineteen

 _Sustinere_

* * *

Another walking skeleton shattered into useless bones at Lloyd's feet. His shoulders slumped as he lowered his blades. Skeletons… really? There were a whole bunch of murderous (no pun intended) birds, sure, but _skeletons?_ He didn't really understand why they were here, but he fought them anyway, one after another. And each time he sighed - Kratos knew this was at _least_ the thousandth time the boy had done so since they'd set foot inside. Another battle? Sigh. Avoiding deadly traps? Sigh. Eating an apple gel? _Siiiiiigh-_

Finally, as they continued onward up a flight of stairs, Kratos spoke up:

"What's wrong?"

Lloyd looked a bit startled at this, as if he hadn't expected the mercenary to be paying any attention to him. Then he sighed again. Kratos frowned.

"Ah, well," Lloyd started, sheathing his swords. "This whole seal-breaking thing. It's starting to get…"

"...Boring?" Kratos offered caustically. He reached the top of the stairs first and stood godlike at the summit with crossed arms and a terse, half-hidden glare.

Lloyd instantly regretted speaking at all. His mouth had always worked faster than his mind. It made for _way_ too much trouble. He dropped his gaze to his feet as he stepped up hesitantly.

"No," he growled. "No, it's not."

Kratos hadn't stopped staring at him; all of his friends behind him were now doing the same. He swallowed hard and glanced at the back of his left hand. His stomach churned and his muscles tensed, and he hated it. "I haven't forgotten the people of Iselia and all the other victims."

Kratos nodded stiffly. "...Good."

"...I'm sorry," Lloyd muttered. "I wasn't thinking…"

"A single mistake could destroy everything." Kratos started walking again, and finally turned his frigid gaze to the waiting corridor, though his voice was no less scalding. "You should think about what your reason for being on this journey is."

Lloyd closed his eyes for a few seconds. Shame clawed incessantly at his thoughts. He felt three inches tall, overwhelmingly overshadowed by the retreating line of Kratos' broad shoulders. Genis and Raine walked by him silently, followed by Sara, who gave him an encouraging slap on the back that made his breath hitch.

But then Colette paused beside him and took his hand. When he looked up at her, she was smiling brilliantly.

"We're almost there," she said. "Come on, Lloyd." And she tugged him onward.

He followed her, shortening his strides to match her smaller ones. His fingers slipped between hers and tightened. He was sure there was something he should've said, some verbal reminder of his affection and trust in her, but each time he opened his mouth, it faded into breathlessness.

"Okay," he said simply, and kept walking.

Another flight of stairs. He, Kratos and Raine led the way, keeping a vigilant silence. Light poured in from the apex of the stairway. Lloyd could see blue sky and puffy white clouds, a refreshing reminder of outside life. He started to smile. Beside him, unnoticed, Colette did the opposite.

In each of the previous seals, the final altar of their quest had been stashed deep underground; this one kissed the sky. It reminded Lloyd of the one at Thoda Island, although surrounding it was only air and openness instead of suffocating, humid rock. It sat on an open stage of flawless white stone, surrounded by regal pillars that were nearly identical in shape and size to those found back in Asgard.

"We're finally at the altar," Genis breathed, wide-eyed.

Raine looked over each of her companions. "Is everyone prepared?"

"I'm ready, Professor," Colette said, nodding and setting her thin jaw. She stepped forward ahead of them. The crimson crystal at the base of her neck exploded with light. In the center of the altar, light gathered, too, forming glittering sparks.

"I sense incredible mana," Genis gulped. "Even stronger than the last seal."

The air churned and whipped to life, gathering the sparks into a thin, violent twister. Its center expanded, thrusting outward, a bubble made of wind - and it burst, revealing the Seal of Wind's final guardian.

Elegant, raptorian, the giant creature hovered in midair without any use of its electric-blue wings. Its feathers shone brilliantly in hues of neon yellow and green. Long, powerful legs clawed forth, each foot ending in three wickedly curved talons the length of Lloyd's arm. It craned its head back, ruffling a mane of spinelike feathers, its sharp beak parting and releasing an ear-splitting shriek.

"It's quick," Kratos stated factually, drawing his blade. "Its attacks will be difficult to follow. Keep your distance."

"And it's weak against lightning attacks," Genis added, grinning, already swinging his kendama. "Let's go!"

Lloyd and Sara led the charge just as Colette's wings bloomed from her shoulders. Kratos, in a turn of strategy, stayed behind to cast his own spells beside Genis, his sword glowing before his chest, the ground beneath his feet swirling with holy symbols. The youngest Sage, though not as quick to cast, actually knew spells of a higher grade than the mercenary; his small chest puffed out just a bit, pridefully, as he cast forth a blade of lightning. It sizzled down from the heavens, impacting the creature dead-on, making it stagger and become vulnerable to Lloyd's shining blades and Sara's fiery claws.

" _Sword Rain! Tiger Blade!"_

" _Serpent Slash! Dragon's Wings!"_

The guardian fired its feathers like missiles, blindingly fast; Lloyd turned to guard, but two of them sliced cleanly through the flesh of his right thigh. He groaned a curse, fumbling backwards and clutching at his bleeding leg. The creature saw this instantly and rushed for him - Sara cut it off, dragging all five of the claws on her right hand clear across its face. It screamed, beating its wings furiously in an attempt to flee.

The Chosen launched her holy spell - _"Angel Feathers!" -_ and her own ghostly feathers streaked through the air, slamming into the creature. It stumbled, momentarily overtaken. Sara gave Lloyd one quick strategic glance; as Kratos healed his mangled leg, Lloyd grit his teeth and nodded to her. She flung away, her broad back facing him, each of her arms spread wide, fingers like death traps - _"Dragon's Teeth!"_ And she gnashed them together across the guardian's neck. It screeched again, bleeding, and countered with an impossibly fast wind spell that sent her flying and skidding backwards, the toes of her boots fighting for purchase on the smooth ground.

Raine and Genis looked at one another and nodded. They cast their spells simultaneously - another blade of thunder from Genis, and a bursting, searing photon of light from his sister. The two forces of magic seemed to combine, silencing all noise, stilling the air - before erupting in a crackling, blinding flash. The creature's wings went rigid as lightning sizzled across its feathers, arcing out from each tip and from the edge of its gaping beak. Its legs gave out. It crunched to the floor, attempting to use its charred wings to return upright - but after two tries it sank down for the last time, in a jumble of frayed, fallen feathers.

After a few moments, it began fading and simply vanished, as if it had never existed at all.

"Aw, man," Lloyd groaned, standing now with unmarred legs. "I didn't get to do _anything_. Getting injured right off the bat sucks."

"Is your leg okay now, Lloyd?" Colette asked, trotting up beside him.

He straightened his back and smiled. "Yeah, all good. Let's go."

And they approached the altar with the Chosen in the lead. Being the third time she'd done this, she felt just slightly less nervous - but only _slightly._ Her sapphire eyes searched the empty sky above the dais, waiting for the telltale heavenly beam of light; it shone down on cue, bathing she and the stone altar in a sterile, ivory warmth.

This time, they all heard the angel's voice before he appeared, although a few immaculate white feathers began to rain down from the empty air:

"Chosen of Regeneration: You have done well in reaching this far. Now, offer your prayers at the altar."

Colette's hands flew to her chest where they clasped together. She nodded. "Yes." And she stepped forward, pausing at the altar and kneeling. Her eyes pressed closed, and her voice rang out, a pure, reverent melody:

"Oh Goddess Martel, great protector and nurturer of the earth: grant me thy strength!"

As the last few words left her lips, Colette surged with passion and purpose; whatever happened next was a _blessing_ , an impart of power and wisdom from the Goddess herself. Being the Chosen was the greatest gift she could think of, to be in such a position of purpose, to be able to change the entire world…

She started to rise. Light poured from her skin and the jewel at her neck. Her wings evanesced from her back as she was pulled into the air, her arms swaying out beside her, her thin ankles crossed. And Remiel appeared once more, just above her. Though it was windy, neither his emerald-green robes or his snowy wings felt the touch of the air. They spread wide, as intimidating as they were welcoming. Not one hair from his blonde head looked out of place, nor one feather - or really that he had changed at _all_ since the first seal. He seemed made of wax.

"This is the third seal," he began, his regal voice booming, impossibly loud. "You have done well reaching this far, Chosen one, Colette."

"Thank you," she breathed.

Remiel extended one arm, holding it just above the Chosen's head. "Receive this blessing, the gift of angelic power from Cruxis."

"Y-Yes, Father," she said softly. "Thank you."

"The next seal lies far northwest, in a place that gazes upon the center of the world. Offer your prayers at the altar in that distant land."

"I shall do as you say, Lord Remiel." Which wasn't at all how she normally spoke, but it felt necessary in the presence of her father.

"I will be waiting for you at the next seal, Colette," he began, and his next words sounded hollow as he spoke them: "My daughter."

It sent a spear of frigidity through her, like being stabbed through the chest with a cold blade. She let none of it show on her face, which remained passive as Remiel once again faded and returned to the sky.

"The end of your journey is close," his voice continued, echoing on the wind. "Hurry and become a true angel. Do not disappoint me."

Colette returned to the ground. Her wings vanished and her clasped hands eased and relaxed at her sides. Her companions all stood behind her, watching, but for several seconds she didn't turn around and instead stared pointedly into the distant mountains.

"A true angel," she whispered.

Lloyd stepped towards her, uneasy. "What'd you say?"

She instantly turned around, smiling again. "Ah, nothing. I was just thinking when I become a true angel, it'll be amazing!"

Lloyd let it go, but his senses stayed on high alert. She wasn't quite right. And she hadn't been, really, for a long time. He'd tried to ignore it and trust her this far, but that dark, resigned look in her eyes gave just too much away. And it seemed to worsen each time they released a seal.

"I wonder how many more seals there are?" Genis said, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"That," his sister began, "we unfortunately don't know."

Sara 's eyes thinned. She walked around to the Chosen's back. Colette's eyes widened as they followed her and she smiled nervously.

"Why don't your wings look like his?" Sara asked, passing one hand through the air behind Colette's shoulders.

"Oh, it's because I'm not a true angel, yet," Colette answered sheepishly. "I think when I release all the seals, I'll actually have real feathers."

"Weird," Sara said, pursing her lips. Then they pulled into a toothy grin. "I like yours better, anyway."

Kratos had already turned towards the descending stairs. "At any rate, all we can do is keep going."

* * *

The Mausoleum's exit provided hopeful, welcome light. Lloyd had _really_ had enough of all these feathers and bones. He hadn't even found any new weapons or treasure - that meant two seals had passed before he'd been able to truly upgrade his swords… He frowned down at their hilts, noting the cracks in their leather bindings, and the way each blade had seemed to dull with age. Colette's chakrams saw little use, due to her ability with angel spells; Genis' kendama was merely a way to focus his magic, as was Raine's staff. Sara's gauntlets and claws were made from dragon bones; seeing as how the beasts were meant to live five hundred years or more, a few measly years of use made little difference. And Kratos' sword _had_ to be enchanted or something, because it seemed permanently flawless, even when run through chests or sliced through limbs.

Something loud abruptly caught his attention. From their most recent battle, it seemed that one of the brittle walls inside had crumbled, revealing a dusty chest half-covered by rocks. Lloyd grinned, his russet eyes alight. He dashed forward instantly - but came to a halt seconds later, remembering his close call with those rather unpleasant metal spikes from earlier. The rest of his search continued much more gingerly.

He eventually reached the chest. The wooden planks it was carved from seemed fragile; it made him wonder how they survived the wall's collapse at all. He knelt down on one knee and brushed his gloved fingertips over the ancient brass lock. Just that simple action somehow made it spring open. He stumbled backwards in surprise, ending up on his rump with wide eyes. Genis laughed, because of course he did.

Sara was beside Lloyd in an instant, her freckled face tense and alight. "What's _that?"_

"I dunno," Lloyd said, getting to his feet. "But it looks _awesome_." And he approached the chest. At the bottom, crossed neatly and perfectly along one another, were a pair of thin, sharp, remarkable blades. The handles had, like, _shields_ of their own, a half-circle of steel that curved around the hilt. The swords themselves were shaped a bit strangely, too - they were symmetrical, a long, thin triangle ending in a deadly tip.

"Whoa," he and Sara breathed simultaneously.

"Rapiers," Kratos offered, his strong jaw tilting slightly upwards. "The people of the Balacruf civilization excelled in close-quarters combat. Naturally, most of their armed forces adopted rapiers as primary weapons. You've probably stumbled upon a soldiers' storage cache."

The things were so covered in dust and cobwebs that Lloyd thought they might fall apart at the slightest touch - but he picked them up anyway, flinging them both several times to clear them of said debris. Even with the muted light, and the ancient dirt, they glinted mischievously. And Lloyd trusted them in an instant.

So he palmed them both, his awkward hands easing themselves beneath those weird hand-shields. The swords were extremely light, but felt just as strong as his previous set. Sure, he'd have to spend a bit of time polishing them when (and _if)_ they ever got out of this place - but it looked damn worth the effort.

"I shall christen you-" And here he crossed them triumphantly over his head- "Nimble Rapiers!"

"Simple," Raine smirked. "Yet rather apt."

Predictably, Lloyd tested their weight and the speed of his thrusts throughout the rest of the dark pathways. Each time he found himself completely satisfied; swinging them was a very different experience than his current, much heavier blades. He could strike quicker and from closer range. It would require more training and getting used to, but like all things in his life, he'd manage if he kept at it.

All the remaining monsters had either been defeated already or saw fit to remain hidden, so the journey back to the entrance didn't take long. Setting sunlight spread across the stone floor; Genis and Lloyd ran toward it excitedly, eager to see the sky once more-

"Stop!"

And they did. All six of them, abruptly, their multicolored heads (really, they just needed a green and a purple to form a rainbow) whipping around to face the new voice. ...Which they all recognized instantly.

"That voice…" Lloyd wondered aloud.

Genis sighed. "Oh, no."

As he exhaled his last word, Sheena at last made her presence known. She dashed down the stairs straight for them and paused at the bottom, squaring her thin shoulders and twitching her obsidian hair out of her eyes. The long tails of her bowlike sash settled slowly behind her knees.

"The day has finally come," she said thinly. "This ancient ruin shall be your graveyard."

Genis hid a snorting laugh in the back of his hand. "Right…"

Colette grinned and trotted towards her happily. "Oh, you're here, too!"

"S-stay there!" Sheena took a backwards step and stumbled, throwing out one arm to steady herself against the wall. "Don't move! Don't touch anything!"

"Like that wall?" Lloyd muttered.

Colette was still all innocent smiles and perky voice. "Now that we've finally become friends, why do we have to fight?"

Sheena's wide hazel eyes slowly blinked. Her intimidating stance wilted. "Since when are we…" And she shook her head quickly, turning lateral, and palming a pair of those paper seals. "I have no intention of befriending you! Prepare yourselves!"

Kratos' blade returned to his palm in a flash. "Get ready."

A series of angled, ritualistic movements of her hands - ending with them beside one another at eye level, palm to palm and a seal between. The seal burst into blinding light as it shredded and faded; in its place, behind her, appeared another one of those looming, birdlike guardians with lanky limbs, scythe claws and a long screeching beak. It flung its arms wide, arcing its deadly claws heavenward.

And Sheena Fujibayashi of Mizuho charged.

Lloyd met her head on. His new blades sang through the air, waiting to strike - but she'd apparently improved, or at the very least gotten her head on straight, because the mysterious assassin was _way_ faster than him. She almost seemed to teleport; one of these stunts ended up with her hand planted on his back between his shoulders.

Before he could turn around, the seal she'd pressed there somehow _exploded_ \- and Lloyd was flung forward like a ragdoll, crunching hard into the stairs and whacking the side of his head against one so hard that he saw stars. He groaned and tried to sit up. His vision swam; his ears rang, and everything sounded soft and muffled, like the world were covered in grey snow. He made out the shapes of Kratos and Sara, burgundy-blue and pumpkin-teal, fighting with that slicing guardian while the assassin went after Genis and Raine, who stood protectively in front of… _Colette-_!

Lloyd lurched to his feet, holding one hand to the side of his head. Blood leaked into the russet strands, making them stick out at odd angles. Raine and Kratos were far too occupied to heal him; he gulped down an apple gel from his pocket, and at once his vertigo and headache eased. Not gone completely, but enough for him to focus. That guardian needed to go first. He aligned his spine, standing up tall, one corner of his mouth tugged into a confident smirk. His legs ate up the ground. His new blades sang in his hands, and he shoved one forward with all his might: " _Sonic Thrust!"_

Well. The guardian was not defeated, only _pissed._ It turned on Lloyd with a fierce slash of its talons; he dodged just in time. Kratos had refocused his attention on the assassin; she was tough, and annoyingly fast, and he stayed on her doggedly. And this meant that the guardian was once again left largely up to Lloyd and Sara. Genis helped, too; now that Kratos took up the frontlines against the assassin, he could focus his spells on her guardian. The creature was covered in grape-purple feathers that faded into lemonade-yellow at the ends of its arms. Its mana felt prickly, unstable - like lighthing. So Genis immediately called forth the earth: " _Stalagmite!"_

It worked. The guardian sank to the ground - _finally -_ and vanished. And Sheena was met with six very stubborn, livid glares. Panting, she retreated into the hallway that she'd come from.

"Why?" she gasped. "Why can't I win?"

Genis punched a triumphant fist into the air. "Goodness and love will always win!"

Lloyd rolled his eyes. "Genis, please don't bring up that stupid Dwarven Vow…"

"'Goodness?!'" Sheena choked, frantically glancing back and forth between both boys. "What do you mean, 'goodness'?! If you're good, I'm _good_ as well!"

"Not you _too_ ," Lloyd moaned. "Everyone, stop saying corny things!"

"What do _you_ know?!" Sheena breathed a growl and fervently shook her head. It was hard to tell due to the muted light and distance, but it looked like tears welled at the corner of her eyes. "When you regenerate the world, my country will be destroyed!"

Colette's hopeful face fell completely flat. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened, mortified.

"I won't let that happen," Sheena continued, glaring resolutely down at one shaking fist. "I swear!

"Wait, what are you talking about?" the Chosen asked. "If I regenerate the world, everyone will be saved, right?"

" _This_ world will be saved!" And Sheena the assassin disappeared again, flitting away into the darkness through a cloud of smoke.

Raine seemed strangely pale. "Stop! Who are you? So you're not alone?" Her questions were useless, unanswered.

" _This_ world?" Lloyd repeated. "What did she mean?"

"That girl," Kratos was mumbling quietly. "Is she-"

Sara raised one eyebrow at him. Curiosity scratched at her thoughts incessantly. A former lover? Wait, she looked young… an illegitimate kid? A distant relation?... "Do you know her?"

"No," he answered swiftly, and turned around.

"But-"

"Let's get out of here."

A sigh and crossed arms. And maybe a slight blush. "Ugh, fine."

The sun was barely above the horizon when they made it outside, exhausted. Colette crossed the threshold first. Her steps slowed. Lloyd had been thinking about their assassin still, but snapped instantly back to reality at the sight of her faltering gait. Panic surged through him hard and fast, and he darted forward - there was _no way_ he would let her fall this time, because he was _prepared_ \- and she ended up in his arms. She felt so light, like she were barely there at all. Her eyes slammed closed; it looked like, for several seconds, that she couldn't even breathe. At her sides, each of her tiny hands had formed a twitching fist. Lloyd just held on, sickeningly helpless.

"It's the Angel Toxicosis again," Raine muttered. "Let's hurry and let her rest."

Lloyd barely heard the Professor speak. He hadn't stopped watching Colette's face and willing with all of his guts for those strained creases in her brow to ease. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes cracked open. She sighed, and Lloyd did too, relieved. "I'm sorry to trouble everybody again."

"Don't worry about that," he said, his voice low and rough. Colette tried standing on her own, but it was as if her muscles weren't coordinated anymore, and each of her movements were jerky and awkward. He tried to help her, but whether or not she intended to, her arm flew out and shoved against his chest, forcing him backwards. At the same time she stumbled ahead, throwing out both hands and just barely catching herself before her face would've met firmly with the ground.

Genis approached them both, frowning. "What are you _doing_ , Lloyd? Are you alright, Colette?"

Lloyd frowned back. Colette pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. She raised her head and looked at Genis, starting to smile - but for a few seconds she just wasn't _there_ , her ocean-blue eyes pulled open wide, vapid, lifeless. Her mouth hung open. She was still breathing, thankfully, but didn't speak.

Genis felt his stomach drop. He took a few timid steps closer. "Colette? Wh-what's wrong? Did it hurt? Did you hurt yourself?"

And a switch was flipped. She blinked and finished her smile, scoffing a melodious, lighthearted laugh. "N-no, I'm fine. I just blanked out for a moment." Finally, she stood on her own two legs, though she tucked one of her hands swiftly into the sleeve of her tunic and behind her back.

Lloyd saw. He didn't say anything, even as they left and set up camp. But he saw.

He didn't talk much for most of the night, really. Everyone set up their sleeping areas and bedrolls around the fire Kratos had made. Genis fell asleep first beside his sister. Noishe had rejoined them, and was now curled into a silver and emerald ball beside Kratos. The mercenary sat still, his long legs stretched out before him, his hands in his lap as he stared prudently into the clear sky. Sara was intently cooking something, using the fire and her breath as heat and fuel. Steam arose from her small metal pot as flames licked at its base.

Colette hadn't sat down once. She apparently found the huge, bright moon particularly interesting, because she hadn't stopped staring at it. She stood a few yards away, alone. And thankfully just out of earshot - Lloyd had a _lot_ of things he wanted to say to her. The first, and most important of which was:

"Colette. Let me see your hand."

She turned to him, startled. But she kept her hand behind her. "Huh? Why?"

"Just _show_ me!" he barked, and she flinched both at his harsh voice and the way he suddenly reached out and gripped her forearm. He instantly felt terrible about it, but it didn't stop him. He heard her breath catch when he lifted her hand, pressing his palm against her frail knuckles - and revealing a bloodied bandage that had been almost completely soaked through. Smudges of copper-red now stained the very end of her once-flawless white sleeve.

"You're hurt," Lloyd ground out. "It must have happened when you fell. Look how much you're bleeding!"

She tugged her hand away and turned around, carefully hiding her eyes with her golden bangs. "But it doesn't hurt."

Lloyd blinked. "What?"

"Uh, I mean…" That smile, again. The strained one that he _hated_. "It doesn't hurt _that_ much."

And for Lloyd, just now, it all came together. That was usually how he learned things in every regard - for the longest time he wouldn't understand, or he would get confused and frustrated and give up. But somewhere along the line, after varying amounts of time, there was always a moment of realization in which things just _made sense._

This time, he didn't want it to make sense. Because what made sense _didn't_ _make any sense_.

He studied her profile with wide russet eyes, both his hands now hanging useless at this sides, beside the hilts of his swords. The night air was pleasant, warm, and deafeningly silent. Lloyd couldn't think of another time in his life when he'd wanted to be wrong so badly. He glanced back at camp, at the fire and the few pots and cups that still sat around it. He swallowed hard and set his jaw.

"Colette, can I talk to you for a sec?"

Her head lifted. Her smile warmed over with sincerity, though it was still painfully nervous. "We're already talking, Lloyd."

"Wait here," he said, walking away and peering back at her over one shoulder. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay."

Raine had fallen asleep, too, and it looked like Sara was grinding something in a small bowl to add to her pot of food. Lloyd walked by Noishe, absently giving the creature a scratch behind its giant ears. He paused just in front of the fire, beside Kratos, who was giving him a peculiar look from the corner of one cinnamon eye.

"Is there any coffee left?" Lloyd asked, refusing to meet the mercenary's gaze. He fully expected a comment about how late it was, and that drinking coffee now would just keep him awake, and he needed to be alert to guard the Chosen, blah blah…

But instead Kratos nodded and picked up a tin mug. He held it in one hand and used the other to fill it with a ladle.

"It's no longer warm," Kratos said quietly.

Lloyd nodded too. "That's fine." He took the mug and headed back the way he came. For several seconds, the mercenary followed the boy with his gaze, wearing an unreadable expression. Sara peered over at Lloyd's retreating back but said nothing.

He returned to Colette, who stood watching him both carefully and hopefully. "What is it, Lloyd?"

With a short, determined sigh, he smiled a little. "I… thought it'd be nice for us to talk, just by ourselves."

"Sure."

"Here." He extended one arm to her, slowly, offering the mug. His eyes stayed locked onto her face with unwavering intensity. "It's hot coffee."

Without hesitation, she took the mug and cradled it beneath her chin. He saw that bandage again, and her stained sleeve, and wanted to throw up.

"Thanks," she said brightly.

"Hot, isn't it?"

 _Please don't say it. Please don't._

"Yeah," she agreed, grinning. " _Really_ hot."

His heart plummeted into his stomach. He kept speaking, though the words were making him sick. "...It's barely warm at all, Colette."

Her eyes flew open wide. "What?"

"It's cooled off completely," he continued bitterly.

"Oh, hehe," she laughed, scrambling for normalcy. "Yeah, of _course_ it's cool-"

"Stop _lying_ to me!"

She dropped the cup. It clattered to the ground just before her feet, splashing the coffee into the half-dead grass. He stepped into its puddle as he came closer, but she wouldn't look at him.

"How long have you been like this?!" His voice seemed to scrape from his throat. "You can't feel anything at all, can you?!"

"Th-that's not true," she forced out, stepping back.

"You're _lying_!" he countered, with a furious fling of one arm. "When you fell earlier, you _already_ couldn't feel anything, right?!"

"W-well, uh… but…" She kept shaking her head. He wanted her to lie again, to tell him that this was all in his head and that she was fine, _really_. Reality gripped his flailing heart, making it hard to breathe.

"You were bleeding like crazy, but you didn't even flinch when I squeezed your hand!"

Her mouth hung open but all that left it were desperate word-fragments. She nudged at the fallen mug with the toe of one boot.

"I guess the secret's out," she muttered finally.

There it was, at last. Though it wasn't the truth he'd wanted to hear, just hearing at at all calmed him down considerably. He managed to lower his voice to something normal and compassionate. "You haven't been eating lately either."

"I eat," she argued, with a soft, halfhearted laugh.

Lloyd shook his head resolutely. "Barely. You even started eating things you don't like. And that's not all… have you been sleeping?"

"Of course, hehe." She clasped her hands at her chest and smiled. "See, my eyes aren't red or anything."

"Stop lying to me," he both begged and demanded, his hands curling into fists. He hated talking her to like this. He hated being mad at his closest friend. Love and hate should not exist so close to one another.

"You always do that fake giggle when you lie," he finished thinly.

This seemed to take her completely aback. She whipped around, her long hair twirling in sync with the hem of her holy cloak. When she spoke again, it was a tone he'd never heard - livid. Incensed. Petrified:

"That's _not_ true!"

Lloyd stood completely still. He only half expected that reaction; the other half wished he'd never heard it at all. "Is it that hard for you to trust me?"

"No!" she shouted instantly, and turned to face him again. "It's not like that! I just…" She sighed, resigned. "I just didn't want anyone to worry."

"What's happening to you?" he asked, futilely attempting to swat away the swarm of questions buzzing in his head. "A-and why is it happening? Is this _supposed_ to happen?"

The Chosen seemed to wilt. She bent at her waist and wrapped her arms around her own torso. "I don't know. I don't know, but… things first got strange when I released the Fire Seal. I suddenly didn't want to eat anything anymore. Even when I did, it didn't have any taste."

Lloyd's jaw dropped. "No… taste?"

"I can't hold anything down when I force myself," she went on softly. "So I haven't been eating. I never get hungry."

Anger and fear abruptly vanished. His shoulders sagged. Each word she spoke landed on them and crushed him into the earth. "That's… that's-" _Awful. Terrible. Unbelievable._ But he couldn't finish.

"Then when I released the next seal, I stopped getting sleepy." Her eyelids fluttered closed. "I close my eyes, but I just can't sleep. I haven't slept at all since then."

His chest felt tight. His throat worked as he swallowed a lump of tears, though a few pricked the corners of his widened eyes anyway.

"Then, with this seal," she went on, holding her hands out before her and staring down at them. "I stopped feeling anything."

"Why-" Lloyd choked through gritted teeth. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

She caught none of his bewilderment and continued on simply. Her slim jaw tilted up, pale and graceful, as she studied the sky. "Well, I figured this is just what it means to become an angel. So I shouldn't let it get to me."

"This is what it means to become an angel?" Lloyd echoed, his breaths heaving, those tears setting free and trailing down his cheeks. "Not eating anymore, not sleeping anymore, not _feeling anything_ anymore?!"

"But my eyes have actually gotten better," Colette offered, frantically hoping to inject some sense of _okay_ into this completely _not_ okay conversation, because that look on Lloyd's face was ripping out what remained of her heart. "I can see really far away now. And my hearing, too. I can hear even the faintest sounds really well-"

It didn't work. At all.

Lloyd lunged forward and shoved his arms around her, pulling her close in a breath-stealing hug. He hid his tearful face in her yellow hair and tried to tamper down the sobs that kept twitching his arms.

"I'm so sorry," he managed, somehow.

Colette stared wide-eyed over his shoulder. He was trembling, and she didn't know why, but she knew that it needed to stop. So she gingerly eased her arms around his back to return his embrace, although with half the force and what she hoped was double the comfort.

"I didn't realize what was going on at all," he continued, shaking his head against hers. He let out a long, watery sigh into her hair. "I'm sorry."

All those broken smiles. All those times he'd looked the other way, and just assumed that everything was fine. All those times she'd lied to him, selflessly, just like everything else she'd ever done… He hugged her tighter. She couldn't feel it. He could feel her hands pressing into his back, and her heartbeat against his chest, but she felt nothing. So he hugged her tighter, like it would make up for it.

"Please don't worry," she mumbled. "It's okay, Lloyd."

He pulled back, keeping his hands on her arms as he glared at her, incredulous. "How am I supposed to not worry? What's going to happen to you next? What if it's something worse?"

"Well, I mean, we're all on this trip together." She raised her eyes to his and smiled once more. "And I want it to be fun. So please, don't say anything. And don't worry about it, okay?"

To be _fun… ?_

His arms went around her again. He closed his eyes and breathed; that's all he really knew how to do right now.

"You're so stupid," he said against her golden hair. "I don't know how, but I promise you, I won't let anything else happen to you."

Her delicate fingertips curled into his crimson shirt when he started trembling again.

"I'm sorry, Lloyd. Even though you're crying for me, and I'm happy - so happy that I want to cry. ...But I can't anymore."

* * *

Sara rose to her knees and stared down into her pot. The steel toes of her boots dug into the earth. She stirred its contents one last time, an aromatic, rich stew of a golden-yellow, flecked with small chunks of chicken and slices of onion and dried spices. She brought the spoon tentatively to her lips, blowing on it once before taking a taste - and after a few moments, she grinned and shot the spoon victoriously towards the sky. It flickered white-hot and shot off a few sparks like metallic launcher of miniature fireworks.

Across the fading campfire, Kratos lifted his head and quirked an eyebrow. They hadn't spoken hardly at all tonight; whatever she'd been making had taken up nearly all of her attention, which was a feat in and of itself. Noishe let out a curious whine.

"Okay, so, not to brag," Sara began, puffing out her chest, "but I think I made some spectacular curry."

Kratos slowly raised his other eyebrow, though it was mostly obscured by burgundy hair. He reclined back casually onto one arm. "'Spectacular?'"

"I was able to keep the heat at the perfect temperature," she assured. And she grinned at him, though it was awkwardly lit by the fire beneath her chin. "Want to try a bowl?"

He straightened his back. The hint of a smile pulled at his mouth. "...Curry is one of my favorites. What was your recipe?"

She started making him a bowl - or, rather, a dilapidated tin mug that had rusted at several spots. But at least it held. "Last time we were in Asgard, I managed to find some whole cumin and coriander seeds, along with some super fresh chicken. I literally ground the spices and then put them in the broth seconds later."

She stuck a spoon in the mug. It was huge, and just barely fit inside. She stared down at it lovingly as she shuffled her way towards him on her knees, without ever standing up. He didn't know why she did this; finding appropriate silverware and walking on two feet would have been much easier…

Noishe sniffed the mug just as Kratos palmed it. The mercenary tried to stir it once with the oversized spoon, although it caught repeatedly on the sides of the mug and did literally nothing. So he turned it over and used the much thinner handle to much more success. Sara was still staring at him with a hopeful smile that burned into the side of his face. When he finally took a bite, he fully expected to be overwhelmed with spices, or to find the flavor too bland, or the chicken too cooked, but… he swallowed. And he took another bite. And he nodded.

"This is… excellent," he admitted gently. "There are generations of families in Triet who could not duplicate this flavor."

She grinned, her chocolate eyes flashing brilliantly, and he found it frustratingly hard not to meet them.

"Yeah?" she asked, as elated as she was surprised. "You think so? Curry has always been my cooking nemesis."

"I would not change a thing," he assured, taking another generous spoonful. And after a few more bites he decided to forego the use of the useless spoon entirely, and gulped the rest of the pleasing broth down gratefully from the mouth of the mug itself. His stomach felt warm and satisfied for the first time in a long while.

Sara had never seen him eat this much of anything, and far less with any sense of appreciation or voracity; this did far more for her self-confidence than any of his words.

From over Kratos' broad back, she spotted Lloyd. The teen's steps were weird, and stilted, like he couldn't quite figure out what to do with his legs. He halted abruptly beside his bedroll with his back to them. Kratos watched, too, surreptitiously over one cloaked shoulder. It took awhile, but Lloyd eventually collapsed to his pillow, resting his chestnut head against it, though his shoulders remained stony, tense. Stressed.

Sara eased into a crosslegged position beside Kratos.

"...He figured it out, didn't he?" she muttered.

Apparently, Sara had, too, although he wasn't entirely surprised. The mercenary stared down at his cup. "So it would seem."

"It's gotta be rough," Sara continued quietly. Her gaze hadn't left Lloyd's twitching back. "Seeing someone you care about that much go through something so difficult."

"...It is her wish," Kratos offered, factually, impartial - though his face looked anything but. His next words were strangely deliberate. "Part of caring for someone is respecting their wishes, no matter how difficult or painful that may be."

"What if she's wrong, though?" Sara asked hesitantly. "What if… there _is_ a better way to help everyone? And just… no one's found it yet?"  
Kratos shook his head and breathed a terse sigh. "His attempts to change the impossible will only make both of them suffer."

"I dunno. I guess it depends on how you view the world:" She rested one open hand on her left knee, palm-up. "If change is possible… he's a hero." And the other on her right. "If it's not… he's just hopeless. If I were Colette, I'd want him to be the hero."

Finally, he raised his eyes to hers and held them there, frowning. "...It seems foolish."

"Tch." She smirked and gestured to him. "Come on, Kratos. Haven't you ever fought for something you've believed in? Even if it was against all odds?"

He waited a long time before speaking. She knew he always chose his words thoughtfully; this silence seemed different, though. Full of a dark regret that tainted his garnet eyes.

"...Yes." he said finally. "But in the end, it changed nothing."

She scooted closer to him. Her bent knee pressed up against the edge of his thigh as she leaned forward and held out one hand. "Well, maybe he'll be different. Seconds?"

Kratos didn't move away. He stared down at her offered hand for a few moments before setting his empty mug within it. "For everyone's sake, I hope so. And… yes, please."

* * *

Author's Note: Hello to all of you who have made it this far! This chapter was one of my faaaaaaavorites to write because of the Colette/Lloyd coffee scene, and writing what goes on in Lloyd's head there is SO much fun.

Oh, also, a little explanation of the names of the chapters - they are each a Latin (Angelic Language) term that befits the chapter's contents. _Sustinere_ roughly translates to "to bear" or "to support" a burden.

Thanks for looking and please review! I really hope you've enjoyed so far!


	20. Solum (Only)

Chapter Twenty

 _Solum_

* * *

"'Far to the Northwest…'" Genis muttered, and pointed one finger at the map lying in his sister's lap. "There's not much in that area other than the Tower of Mana."

Raine nodded, her eyes thinning thoughtfully. "And Remiel also said it was a 'place that gazes upon the center of the world.' In order to do that, it would need to be someplace tall."

"It's really far, though," Genis frowned, his shoulders slumping. "Can't we just get Sara to find us more dragons? It would be so much-"

" _No,_ " the Professor cut in, shooting him a glare. "All it would take was one 'oops' that high in the air and any one of us would fall to our deaths."

"But last time was-"

"Fortunate. Not guaranteed. Our journey is of too much importance to take such unnecessary risks."

"Are you sure you're not just scared of-"

"Will you stop _talking?"_ His quiet chuckle only incensed her anger further, though she sighed and reigned it back. "Luin marks a rough halfway point. Let's make that our first destination."

Genis took the map and folded it precisely before easing it into the side pocket of his sister's bag (where it _belonged_ \- nowhere else). He knew better than to try and rearrange any of her things. _A place for everything, Genis, and everything in its place…_

Lloyd was packing his bag, too, although with much less focus and care. Genis watched him for a little bit. It's not like his best friend was regularly excited about waking up early and starting the day, but this morning Lloyd seemed a bit off. He trotted up behind the teen, smiling.

"Sis says our next stop is Luin."

"...Cool."

Genis frowned again. Lloyd hadn't even looked at him… He crossed his arms defiantly. "It's supposed to be pretty there. Remember the pictures in our textbooks?"

"...No."

"Gah, what's your _problem_?!"

"I'm _fine,_ dammit! _"_ And now he did turn around - but he looked far from fine. His russet eyes were bleary and bloodshot, and his nose tinted a slight red. He was scowling, and he wouldn't meet Genis's gaze.

"Sorry, Genis," he mumbled, and raked one hand through his hair. "I had a rough night."

"I can tell. You look like Noishe slept on your face."

Lloyd opened his mouth to argue but instead snorted a loud, ridiculous laugh. He started to smile, picturing his lifeless body sprawled out on the ground with his head shoved under Noishe's belly-

"Maybe he did," Lloyd managed, with an affectionate glance at the creature, who whined back at him and wagged his wispy tail.

Genis smiled too. "Let's go, Lloyd."

"...Yeah. Thanks, Genis."

* * *

Colette didn't walk next to Lloyd today. She stayed up front, by the Professor, while Genis continued to keep his best friend company. The Chosen had lots of practice at keeping a smile under stress, so she didn't feel nervous, or out of place at all. But every now and then she'd glance back at him, and he'd meet her eyes. And something inside of her would twist and hurt just as much as it would flail with joy. It was weird, and she didn't like it one bit - though she had no idea what to do about it, other than bear it just like everything else.

Otherwise, the day felt particularly beautiful. This part of the continent was blessed with a series of lakes and rivers that kept the foliage healthy and stunningly green. Sara had been to this area many times, although always from the sky; walking for so long felt very strange to her. Except for her daily exercise, she rarely used her own two legs to travel, and she still hadn't quite gotten used to all of this. It made for bigger muscles, though. And a slimmer waist, which she couldn't really complain about.

Kratos walked beside her. At this point it just felt familiar, expected. For some reason, all day so far, the mercenary had been exceedingly open to smalltalk and the sharing of anecdotes, which Sara far from minded - but still recognized as something odd. For instance, where he'd gotten his sword (a renowned travelling blacksmith from the Triet desert who made only two weapons a year due to their quality). How long it had taken her to create her gauntlets (six months; they required scales from all stages of a dragon's growth, since a scale's flexibility depended on the dragon's age). If she had any curry left (yes, though they both agreed that there was a 50/50 chance that it could either actually taste better or half as good).

Sara fell silent for awhile; so did he. Silence was fine, too. Not awkward, not expectant. They'd started going up a small hill; one side was rather rocky, and Sara drifted towards it, using the jutting stones as a natural version of hopscotch. She flitted among them gracefully, on her tiptoes, practicing her balance and grinning the whole time.

"You seem… weird," she said finally, as she landed on the last rock.

He _humphed_. He kept one hand forever on the hilt of his sword, even as he glanced at her curiously through strands of burgundy hair. "...'Weird'? How so?"

"Um, well." She shrugged, and pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Almost… happy?"

He smirked at this. Though her demeanor remained casual and friendly, she watched him with a certain intensity, a focused interest.

"Luin is a wonderful city," he began with a peculiar softness. "I am looking forward to visiting it once again."

Sara's spine straightened, and she nodded. Her fingers twitched absently. She _really_ didn't know if she should keep talking, now. Anecdotes and casual chitchat were one thing; delving into the vast, most meaningful shards of her past was another. It took her awhile to determine whether or not to bear the uncomfortable stuff she'd always kept well-hidden beneath practiced, watertight layers.

Eventually, her nervous grimace softened into a small, warmhearted smile. "I agree. Luin is really important to me. It's where my sister and I grew up."

Aaaaand there it was.

Sara hardly ever talked about her sister unless absolutely necessary; planting that seed of interest in anyone's thoughts was sure to unleash a flood of unpleasant memories. Of Desians, and cold-blooded experiments. Of loneliness, and torture, and death… But with Kratos, it felt… okay. Manageable. Still, Sara kind of panicked. She took in a bracing breath and held it, her heart flailing against her sternum.

"Is it?" he began, his garnet eyes studying her face. "How long did you live there?"

Sweet, soothing relief. _Normalcy_. She finally exhaled. Her stride matched his, now, though she kept her gaze on her boots. "Six years. I was pretty young, so I don't remember the details. But the best memories of my life were in Luin." She smiled wider. "And… of her."

"Tell me about her," he said instantly, and quite literally could not have said anything more perfect.

"Okay. Y-yeah." Sara swallowed thickly and forced down the tears straining her throat. She spoke in a fervent rush, dazzled, reverent. "She was _amazing_ , Kratos. So beautiful, inside and out. Just the kindest, gentlest soul you've ever known. She cared for everyone she met. Like, genuinely. She pretty much raised me by herself. And she never once complained."

He nodded. And it was so much more than a wordless acknowledgement. That shadowed look crept back onto his face, but it wasn't as dark this time. Wasn't as malignant. She sensed a foreign hope behind it.

"...Unconditional love is a rare gift," he offered, slowly. Delicately, and with such patience. "In a world such as this, it is perhaps the most precious gift of all."

He said that for more than one reason. Two, to be precise. Each of them squeezed Sara's heart just as exquisitely.

"Yeah. It is." Just in case, and as stealthily as she could, Sara passed the back of her hand over her eyes. "She died when I was young, but she changed my life forever. I'm so thankful for her. Even if… it was hard to lose her."

"Grief is the price of love," he stated, with absolutely no room for argument. "The deeper we loved those we had, the deeper we experience their loss."

"Absolutely. But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

His steps faltered at this. _Just_ enough for her to notice. If they hadn't been on a predetermined path, and the Chosen not his first interest, she had a feeling he would've stopped entirely.

"No?" he asked. "Would you not wish for her to live?"

"Yeah, of course. I would give anything to have her back. But… then I wouldn't be the person I am now." Sara met his eyes and kept smiling. "And my life now, everything that's made me who I am right this second - even the bad parts - I don't want to lose that."

Kratos exhaled a long breath. His eyes closed for just slightly too long, and for a moment she wondered if he would say anything back, but then:

"...Thank you for telling me."

She nodded like crazy. "Yeah. Yeah, Kratos. Of course." Sheer abandonment and willpower forced the rest of the words from her throat. It was like launching a rope over a ledge, or taking a wild leap into dark water-

"And if you ever want to talk about her… I'll be listening, okay?"

Nothing. Oh, _shit,_ Kratos said _nothing._

Sara's panic doubled. Tripled. Rocketed heavenward with the fuel of a thousand suns. She cursed herself in every language she'd ever heard, even made-up ones. Her muscles tensed, and she walked forward stupidly, like a stick figure, wanting to disappear.

"S-sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"She was wonderful."

Sara's head snapped up so fast it should've broken her neck. Her mouth fell open, and her tongue was _so_ far from forming words. She saw the look on his face. Kratos didn't try to hide it at all, which made it all the more excruciatingly magnificent to witness.

Softly closed cinnamon eyes. A brow that was normally furrowed but now smooth, relaxed. At peace. And there was so much _love…_ Appreciation, and tenderness of the highest order. Like he were finally touching what he'd lost again, after the longest time.

"...Yeah?" Sara breathed, completely, utterly awed.

Kratos bowed his head. "She gave me gifts I cannot ever replace - but that I can honor. Her love… released me. And for it, I am forever grateful."

Oh, what the _hell_ \- What do you _say_ to that? Something so raw, so devastatingly honest and passionate… What _could_ she say? Sara's brain felt like a tangled jungle of words. Complete with prickly vines and venomous plants… She tried to focus on his profile. On what existed right now. And on that tiny, sublime smile brightening his haunted face.

"You seem… in a good place about it," she managed.

"...Yes," he agreed, after several palpable seconds. As if he were equally as surprised to be saying the words as Sara was to hear them. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"I'm so glad, Kratos." Understatement of the year award winner: Sara Baldasarre, no contest. "Thank you for telling me, too."

He didn't look at Sara anymore. He probably couldn't. But that was totally, completely okay, because he was still smiling, and that was _absolutely_ most important.

"Let us spend this day in happiness," he said softly. "For the others. For Lloyd, and… for our loved ones."

"Alright." Sara tiptoed over another rock and wiped her eyes again, this time without fear of him noticing. "I couldn't agree more."

* * *

When it came right down to it, Sheena still didn't have much confidence in herself.

It seemed ridiculous and _completely_ uncalled for, given her keen movements and the smooth, lithe way that her fists and feet impacted each Desian's jaw and stomach. She was only nineteen; these men had at least five or ten years on her, and double her armor and body weight. So she honestly had plenty of reasons to fear them, especially when they clustered around her like this, in an indelible half-circle of blades and tarnished helmets.

That didn't stop her from winning, though.

Sheena was lightning-fast, disappearing in and out of thin air on a whim. Her trained muscles moved her body at blinding, precise speeds, earned from a literal lifetime of practice. In her hometown, success either made or broke you. And make no mistake - she had been broken before.

She hadn't forgotten. She never would. But that didn't mean she couldn't come back… and at least hope, perhaps futilely, to one day see the light of redemption.

That's what she sought for above all else, though it often eluded her. Fighting these scum Desians felt like an appropriate enough outlet for her frustration. They were the absolute lowest of the low; preying on the helpless, taking advantage of the underprivileged. It made her graceful face harden, her hazel eyes narrow in disgust. She grew incensed, livid, seeing the way they treated all these innocent people - even if they were Sylvaranti, the very citizens she'd come to rip the rug out from beneath.

And the very citizens whose savior she'd been sent to kill.

It didn't matter now. Sheena wondered if it would _ever_ matter again. She disarmed another Desian, her knuckles cleanly snapping his forearm. He howled and dropped his sword just before it would've impaled a small child. Another soldier rushed at her from behind; she leaped into the air, that pink bow around her waist twirling serenely. Both her heels slammed into his face. He groaned a curse and stumbled backwards, dropping his sword. She landed on him, crunching one foot into his exposed neck. Something flashed to her left; another blade. She twisted, flinging out one leg, kicking it away-

"Damn," she breathed, as she felt another one's sword slice into her shoulder.

Still, she managed to leap backwards. She ended up with her back against the wall of one of the burning houses, and had just enough right of mind to dodge one of its falling beams.

Her shoulder ached. Her head did, too, from what she was sure was blood loss - that slice to her back hadn't been the first. Sheena lifted her chin and looked around, past each Desian's stiff frame. She fought mightily for breath. There had to be at least a dozen of them left… or were there six, and that was just her vision going double?

She blinked hard. She tried to stand, but it didn't work and she clambered against the wall for stability. A few fleeing villagers gave her an empathetic glance as they ran by; she was thankful that what remained of the Desians had been preoccupied with her enough to give everyone else a little bit of time. The crackling of flames clouded her ears; smoke filled her throat. One girl remained, stupidly; she was young, and couldn't have been much older than six. She wore a tattered blue dress and clutched a stuffed bear to her tiny chest. It had on a ridiculous yellow party hat with a poofy white ball on top. Her sunken cheek pressed against its head as she stared at Sheena with wide, empathetic blue eyes.

"Go," Sheena rasped, rising to her feet. The Desians thought she had been speaking to them. They were wrong.

"Just _go!"_

The girl's eyes watered. She backed up and clutched her bear tighter. And thankfully, finally, she ran off with the others, her tiny shoes leaving delicate imprints in the scorched earth.

Sheena smiled, even as she collapsed to her knees. Her head buzzed. Everything felt warm, although that could've been from the flames at her back. Embers rained to the ground just as her eyes closed and the world went peacefully, serenely dark. The side of her face slid into the dirt. She was still smiling.

* * *

The Chosen spotted the black cloud first. It wafted over the distant verdant treetops, just a slight, dark smudge against an endless blue backdrop. She halted; beside her, Genis and the Professor did the same. Colette took in a quick breath through her nose, and tilted her ear northeast beneath flaxen hair, towards their destination.

"Smoke," she announced in a low voice. "And I hear flames… and screams."

Raine swallowed hard. "From Luin?"

"Yes." Frantic sapphire eyes met calm indigo. "Please, let's hurry."

They were less than a mile from the city. The Chosen's warning hurried their steps. Luin sat on a grand lake, and had only two entrances: a pair of wooden bridges, one from the east and the other from the west. They approached the eastern bridge at a sprint.

Lloyd got there first. His eyes were wide and shocked as he stared ahead into what _used_ to be Luin - it had been almost completely razed. What were once tall, gorgeous buildings were now battered and burned or torn down completely into smoldering piles of rubble. That black smoke hung over the city, ominously darkening the sky and thickening the air. Desian soldiers dashed in and out of the few buildings that were still standing and planted small explosives, causing walls and windows to splinter and Lloyd to flinch and duck. Several citizens milled about aimlessly, covered in blood and soot, attempting to find some sort of shelter from the flames and remaining soldiers.

"This…" he stammered disjointedly. "Th-this is-"

"Horrible," Colette finished for him, wiping at her eyes.

It looked like most of the soldiers had already left, but one of the remaining Desians had turned around and was motioning for his comrades to join him. He gestured to something on the ground, half-hidden by broken boards. Then he drew his sword. And Lloyd barely felt the breeze of Sara sprinting by him, much less saw her.

The soldier hardly had time to glance up and see the spiked edge of her arm sailing towards his head. His helmet flew off and tumbled across the pockmarked ground. He yelled a curse, attempting both to remain standing and to parry. He was far too slow; something blindingly sharp sliced across his neck. And then his chest felt warm and slick, and he sank lifelessly to his knees.

Another Desian approached her at a run, bellowing and preparing his blade. She caught it on her gauntlet. He locked eyes with her; for just a moment, hers flashed with a peculiar, _terrifying_ darkness, and he heard a loathsome growl-

" _You worthless_ _bastard."_

Sara left him without a face.

Genis paled and frantically tugged on his sister's robes. "Sis, y-you gotta…"

Her staff lit up. She felt nauseous and sluggish, like the air were syrup, but she narrowed her eyes and nodded. "I know. Stay back-"

"Wait."

Kratos held out one arm to stop her advance. He walked forward instead, alone, into the smoke and blood and falling embers. Genis gaped at his back while Raine's face tensed, addled and concerned. Lloyd and Colette both watched silently, wide-eyed.

The Desians were all dead now. Sara had made rather short work of them. She stood very still, the last drops of blood trickling from her claws. She heard Kratos' footsteps behind her - this was deliberate, because everyone knew he could move silently if he wanted to.

He watched her attentively as he approached. His steps were even, calm, as was his expression. He halted just behind her, within inches of touching her back, both his hands relaxed at his sides.

She kept staring fiercely into what used to be the city's heart but was now a desolate, chaotic mess of destruction. Her breaths were hard and twitchy and far too quick. Kratos couldn't see her eyes, but he didn't need to.

His mouth was perched just behind her ear and fiery hair, so he spoke softly:

"Breathe for me."

She did. Air scraped into her lungs in a long, strained inhale and then rushed out. Her claws snapped back into her gauntlets and her hands curled into shaking fists.

"It's all gone," she choked - in her own voice, though it was wavering and much rougher than usual. She started to slowly shake her head; as it turned to the right, her temple pressed up to his jaw. She held it there, and squeezed her eyes shut. "Everything's gone. Everything is…"

"Just breathe, Sara."

A few embers settled onto his shoulders, only to be stolen away by the breeze. Not far off, wood rended and cracked, splintering, toppling over. She flinched, and either refused to move away or simply couldn't. But she kept breathing.

"Is… is that the way you get through it?" she asked, a delicate whisper over crackling flames.

Kratos nodded. He closed his eyes as well, and rested his chin gently on top of her head: "It's the only way I've ever known."

Something shuffled just beside them. A pile of half-burned rubble shifted and rose upwards - revealing a thin arm in a lavender sleeve and a jet-black head of hair.

Sara finally stepped away and towards the noise. Kratos' hand darted to his sword's hilt.

Colette gasped, her hands flying to her chin. "It's her!" And she flashed forward fearlessly, over bodies and building fragments, to help fling away the remaining debris.

Raine frowned. "And why are we helping your _assassin_ again, Colette?"

The Chosen's digging revealed another limp arm and a smudged, pale face with barely-open hazel eyes. And blood, everywhere…

Sheena made out different shapes and colors - white and holy gold, orange and pale silver. Triumphant red and chestnut brown. She blinked several times. Something felt extremely heavy on top of her hips and legs. So, naturally, she tried moving them. One of those blurry shapes aided her, the bright one with the sweet voice. Smoke still lingered in her throat and lungs; she coughed, great tremors jutting through her chest. And slowly, bit by bit, the world returned. Those shapes solidified into human figures. And she recognized them all instantly, and with a throaty, cynical laugh.

"Oh, it's you guys," she muttered, one side of her mouth stretched into a smirk. She got to her knees. Each one of the others froze, weapons poised, ready to unleash at the slightest provocation. Sheena fought the urge to roll her eyes and just barely succeeded; due to the large amount of blood she'd lost, such an action might've ended up with her unconscious on the ground.

"If you want to finish me off, now's your chance," she rasped, staring hard at her knees.

That little girl had gotten away, hadn't she? Sheena remembered big violet eyes and a yellow hat. Remembered an innocent life fleeing to safety; at least some good had come from her subpar heroic attempts. Now that she'd accomplished that, death honestly sounded rather okay.

But of course, that silly, ridiculous blonde girl that Sheena had been ordered to kill had other ideas.

"She's hurt badly. Professor, please heal her."

"I will," Raine said thinly. Her scrutinizing gaze never swayed. "But first, I want you to tell me what happened here. It seems she has companions, and this may just be a trap to catch us off guard."

"A _trap_?" Sheena huffed a laugh and held one hand to her flayed shoulder. She tried to narrow her eyes in some sort of cynical, sarcastic fashion but it probably came off as more of a grimace. "You're as devious as you look."

The Professor inclined her chin. "Call me what you like."

Bit by bit, Sheena rose to her feet. "...The Desians invaded."

"What?!" Venomous rage burned in Lloyd's gut. "Why?"

"Do you know about the human ranch northeast of here?" Sheena asked gravely.

"The Asgard ranch," Sara ground out, scowling. "Yeah, I know."

"The people of this city had been hiding some folks who escaped from there," Sheena continued. She absently wiped her bloody hand off on her leggings; they were bloody, too, so it didn't do much. "The Desians found out about it, and not only was most of the population forced to go to the ranch, but the city was destroyed."

The reality of her words took a few seconds to sink in. This was a whole new level of wickedness. Lloyd had already begun mentally planning a counterattack, and wondering if this ranch would be anything like Palmacosta's, or maybe worse-

"How were you injured?" Colette said earnestly, jarring him from his thoughts.

"It's nothing," Sheena mumbled, glancing off to one side. One of her legs briefly collapsed. Out of sheer willpower alone, she remained standing. "I was just a little clumsy."

"She's lost a lot of blood," Kratos offered, seeing through the guise easily.

This brought Lloyd back to the present, as well. Sheena still wouldn't look at any of them. He turned to Raine. "Professor, please heal her."

"Please," Colette echoed, hands beneath her chin.

Sheena didn't know whether to find them stupid or amazing. She settled for a bit of both.

"Fine," Raine sighed. "But I swear, you're all way too softhearted for your own good."

Sheena wholeheartedly agreed. The crystal topping Raine's staff began thrumming with soft white light. Sheena had been healed with magic before - but not by the Professor, whose mana felt tinged at the edges with cold silver. Appropriate. She scoffed another laugh as the chunk of flesh missing from her shoulder glued itself back together. Her energy returned, too, as what blood she'd lost was recreated swiftly. It made her heart skip a beat or two at the sudden return of volume - but then it pumped gratefully. She straightened her back, this time without flinching, and finally met Raine's eyes.

"Why did you save me?"

Raine gestured to Lloyd and Colette and sighed again. "Ask them."

"Probably for the same reason you tried to save the people of this city," Lloyd said. That earned him a bewildered look.

"We're trying to defeat the Desians, too," Colette added, smiling brightly. "We have the same goal. You're not a bad person, just like I thought."

"Well, then, I…" This was absolutely ridiculous and she couldn't really believe she was saying it at all, but this had already been a day of firsts. Why stop now? "I know this is an unreasonable thing to say, but I have a favor to ask of you."

Lloyd blinked. "A favor?"

"I owe the people of Luin for food and lodging," Sheena went on. "Please, help me save these people from the ranch. If you agree, I'll declare a truce with you and help in any way I can."

No one spoke for a little while. Sheena chose mostly to stare at Lloyd (that was his name, right? From when he'd introduced himself back at that House of Salvation?...), who stared right back at her. His outfit was ridiculous - were those _suspenders?_ And why he chose to fight with two swords was beyond her. But… she kind of liked his hair. It was thick and shiny. And his face was pretty nice, too - just the right combination of sharp lines and smooth angles… She felt her cheeks start to flush and immediately looked away.

"All right," Lloyd said with a grin.

Raine and Sheena's jaws dropped in-sync.

"Lloyd, are you serious?" Raine screeched.

"I agree with Lloyd!" Colette shouted fervently.

"Ah, um…" Genis laughed nervously. "I'm sorry, Raine."

Lloyd turned to Kratos, who stood silently beside Sara, who still looked angry and sick as she glared at the ground. "What about you?"

"I see no problem with it," Kratos said.

Sara raised her head. "This is perfect timing, actually. Sheena, I want you to take my place for a little while."

Lloyd's eyes widened. "What do you mean, Sara?"

"Luin is… really important to me," she began gruffly, gesturing one hand to the dilapidated, fragmented building beside her. "I spent a lot of time here growing up, and I still know a lot of people here. I want to stay behind and help here however I can. You all go onto the ranch."

"Alright," Raine said thinly. "I suppose if we look at it another way, it does mean we can keep a close eye on her."

Lloyd had an uneasy feeling that Sara wasn't telling the whole story. Her shoulders were hunched and tense and her bright teal duster was still speckled with Desian blood. It would be weird entering a ranch without her there… not that he'd been in a ton of them, but when he broke into the first and only one, she'd been by his side. He wanted to talk to her, to ask what was really going on, but now clearly was not the time.

But he trusted her, despite the occasional demonic rage - so he simply nodded instead.

"Okay. We'll come back here when we can." He kept attempting to meet her eyes, but she always looked away. "We'll see you later, okay, Sara?"

She stepped forward and hugged him. She was bloody, and smelled like smoke, but he didn't mind - what he _did_ mind was how ridiculously tight her arms were… he felt like he was being crushed in a warm, affectionate vice. He tried to smile through his flinch.

"Be safe, kid," she muttered, and let him go. Then she turned to Sheena, whose eyes she absolutely met with sharp, dark sincerity. The younger woman stumbled backwards as if physically attacked.

"If you hurt any of them," she spat, and raised her claws to Sheena's eye-level. "I will end you."

Sheena swallowed hard. "W-well, I was going to make some lame joke about watching your backs so you don't lose your head, but… probably not a good idea."

Sara now gave her a thumbs… er, claw-up. "Wisdom."

"Let's hurry, Lloyd," Colette said, and tugged his arm forward. He followed, as did the Sages, and Sheena, but Kratos took a bit longer. His silent garnet stare was an unspoken question. The waning flames from a burning home tinted his hair and one side of his face a mysterious, otherworldly copper.

"I'm good," Sara said quietly. Which wasn't exactly the truth, but she would manage. She didn't want him to leave. Ever again, really. "Keep them safe."

The mercenary nodded. He turned and followed the others, those pointed tails of his royal blue cloak swaying in the fiery breeze.

* * *

Author's note: Hiiiiiii guys! I've wanted to write this chapter forever because it's where Kratos finally opens up a little about Anna. In the game he _never_ says anything about her at all in the way of his feelings or their relationship, and that TOTALLY needed to change.

As always, thank you for looking. And please review!


	21. Iracundia (Rage)

Chapter Twenty-One

 _Iracundia_

* * *

Noishe did not like where his humans were going.

The Man, and The Boy… they were headed in a direction that Noishe knew was incredibly _wrong._ Noishe remembered lots of pain, lots of very not-happy things ahead of them. He hadn't stopped whining since their departure from what remained of Luin. And the orange-haired Almost-Woman had remained back there, for whatever reason. He kind of liked her, and didn't get why she wasn't with The Boy and The Man. Because they were supposed to be together… Noishe didn't know much, but he knew _that_ much.

Noishe liked none of this. His ears pressed flat against his head and his tail hung low. Each of his steps were unsure and timid. He whined again and palmed The Boy's hand with his black, wet nose, desperate for reassurance.

Lloyd looked back at the creature with a fleeting half-smile. His gloved fingers briefly scratched behind those worried ears. "I'm okay. It's okay."

But it _wasn't_. Nothing was, and Noishe knew. So he kept whining, like he could alert them all to precisely how _bad_ this direction felt.

No one listened. The Man felt electric, and full of shadows. And overwhelmingly tense, though he let none of it show. Noishe knew, though. So he nudged The Man's hand, too, in an offer of comfort but all he received was a grunt and a nod. Noishe shouldn't have expected more, after so long, although he always hoped.

They got closer to the awful place. Noishe slowed his steps and eventually stopped walking entirely, although everyone else continued forward without him. He whined again. Nothing happened. So he left into the shelter of the trees, where he always felt most at home. Their shade protected him, and he loved the feel of the soft, blooming ground beneath his chest and belly. He sighed, and curled into a content, furry ball amidst the smells of pine sap and pollen.

It was so much better than rotting flesh.

* * *

The walls were always black.

It hadn't been a stylistic oddity at Iselia, or Palmacosta. The Desians deliberately made the walls of their ranches _black,_ and while Lloyd was not one to believe in superstition, the color had begun to become wary in his mind. He remembered the smell most of all, sour and musty - and for a moment, he vaguely recalled a lesson of the Professor's about how the sense of smell was most tied to memory. And he wished it weren't so. Seeing that sunken, decaying flesh was one thing. Hearing its squelch, too, but _smelling_ it… he never wanted to be near that scent again.

He kept walking, though. Lloyd's steps didn't falter. His best friend was beside him, and Genis seemed equally as uncomfortable. Somehow this was calming. It was nice to know that Lloyd wasn't alone in his trepidation. Maintaining an emotionless facade was nearly impossible for him - and as much as Kratos trained him in maintaining a level head and hiding his feelings, Lloyd wasn't sure if the lessons would ever really take hold. The world was huge. His mind was huge, too, although apparently in all the wrong ways - and he didn't know how he'd ever properly reign it back.

Sheena hadn't lied. She knew exactly how to get to the ranch; it took less than an hour at their hurried pace. Lloyd felt like there were things he should've said to her, or smalltalk he should've made, but everytime he tried to speak, he noticed how completely content with silence she was. And he held his tongue. Because really, he didn't _want_ to talk, either; he only found it necessary in the discomforting silence.

They saw the Desians through the trees. Dozens of them, their silver helmets and blue-brown uniforms poking out between thickets of brush and leaves. Sheena led them to a clearing just outside the surrounding forest; they hunched low, though there was probably no need. Mostly out of fear.

Genis gaped through the branches. "The security is intense. It's completely different from last time." Which was true; Magnius had been expecting them at the Palmacosta ranch, so he'd called off most of his forces. This place was most definitely _not_ expecting them, however, and as such was swarming with patrols and vigilant eyes.

"Yeah," Lloyd began in a low voice. "Even if we get inside…"

Raine wore a similar mask of thoughtfulness. "Hmm, there is a way, though." Kratos, Sheena and Genis all looked back and forth between the other two with curious, raised eyebrows.

"Professor," Lloyd said with a smug smirk, "I bet you're thinking the same thing I'm thinking."

"What?" Colette was not following whatsoever. "What are we going to do?"

Lloyd tried to _humph_ like Kratos, although it had nowhere near the same effect. The mercenary noticed and shot him a scolding frown, though Lloyd ignored this. "We'll disguise ourselves as Desians and sneak in."

The Professor scoffed a condescending laugh, much closer to that _humph_. "I see the gears in your head move quickly only at times like this."

Lloyd frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

But Colette grinned. "Oh, I see! If we look like Desians, we won't get caught!"

Sheena, who had remained by far the most hidden and silent up until now, finally breathed a fragmented word of disbelief and retort. She swallowed it quickly and kept her silent place behind a tree branch.

"I don't think this is the best plan either," Raine started, futilely attempting to hide her distaste, "but do we have any other choice?"

The Chosen suddenly tilted her chin towards the sky. Kratos did the same.

"The Desian patrol is here," he said quietly, and glanced at Lloyd. "What shall we do?"

The teen's eyes darted just over the older man's shoulder. "Okay, let's hide behind those trees and ambush them."

With the element of surprise, the battle was swift and easy. Lloyd kind of forgot the part about needing to use uniforms, and ended up leaving three of the four Desians in tatters, along with their clothes. The male ones, actually. The only uniform that remained usable was on a _female_ soldier.

"Aw, damn," Lloyd grumbled. "I wanted to be the Desian…"

Kratos sighed. "...This is not a game."

Sheena was eyeing the unconscious guard curiously. "Hmm, looks a bit too tall for the Chosen here." She smiled cynically at Raine. "Looks like it's either me or you, Mrs. Magic."

Genis at once noticed the white hue to his sister's knuckles as she gripped her staff, and he backed up behind Lloyd to protect himself from the inevitable explosion. However, Raine chose to trim her anger into five thin, deadly words: "Never call me that again."

"Fine, yeah, whatever," Sheena said. "Now are you gonna wear this, or should I?"

"I don't trust you to not turn us in. I'll wear it."

Colette held one hand worriedly to her chin. "But what about the rest of us?"

"You'll be my prisoners," Raine stated factually. "Now, kindly leave me alone while I change."

* * *

If Sara could _create_ fire, then surely she should be able to quench it, as well.

In her mind, the two were linked. At least she _hoped_ this theory was correct. So far, she'd only ever practiced bringing flames to life and giving them heat and strength; but fire was fire. In any form, whether it was made by her mana and held in her hands, or made by Desians and meant to destroy, fire simply _was._ Outside forces merely acted on it, and it obeyed only the most skilled of commanders.

She tried to ignore the shouts and screams. Sara was only one human and as such, could only do one thing at a time. And that _had_ to be enough. Not everyone from Luin had been taken captive or had managed to flee; many families remained behind, hiding from the Desians, unwilling to abandon their lives or any loved ones that couldn't follow.

"This way," a middle-aged brunette woman was saying, her frayed emerald skirt bunching and stretching with each frantic stride of her small feet. "Please, my girls, my husband - they're still inside!"

Sara followed instantly and without protest. The woman was pointing to a halfway-standing apartment complex not far ahead; her stride was short and plump and not nearly as fast as Sara's, who didn't wait. Once she was sure of her target, Sara took off at a sprint, her long legs eating up the ground, her bangs flitting wildly about determined earthen eyes.

Five floors, the bottom three of which were completely engulfed in flames. It reminded Sara of an hourglass; the middle had been eaten away and with each tiny breeze, the top floors teetered and swayed. A window was open on the topmost level. Churning, choking smoke poured from it and up into the sable sky; from its pillowy depths Sara spotted a frantic, waving arm.

The woman hadn't made it to her yet, but it didn't matter. Sara's dragonscale boots were already caked with ash and mud; she dug them into what remained of the earth. She held her hands out to her sides, palm up, onyx claws flexed and strained towards the sky.

She remembered a low, baritone voice that guided her breath. The smell of curry, and hot chocolate. She remembered the way her lungs felt when she first learned their power, their influence. Her heart thrummed and thumped beautifully, sending scalding blood through each of her veins. And Sara closed her eyes.

The air was awful and thick, and choked in her throat, but she inhaled it anyway. Those raging flames snapped out of existence and instead appeared in her palms. Dragons had this power, and had for thousands of years… how did they _handle_ it? Commanding fire made her chest burn, made each of her muscles twitch, her jaw clench. She became painfully aware that she was only human, and that this power was not meant for her kind. She had to rise to its occasion, to meet it head on and without fear - fire only respected the brave.

Her forearms and hands sweltered, burned; her skin would've blistered and charred if not for Tarja and Ko'tenda's strength. She hissed a curse through gritted teeth. Pyres of flames, double her height, roared into the air between her fingers before flashing and extinguishing completely.

Sara fell to one knee. The ground was slick and cool, and she pressed her palms into it thankfully. Steam eased between her fingers and wafted upwards. She raised her head, her lips parted as she strained for breath. The building before her no longer burned, though it trailed smoke into the already dense air. That waving arm gradually became attached to a shoulder and a chest and a brunette head with crooked glasses. And behind it were two younger girls, their faces black with soot and their matching viridian eyes wide and petrified.

Sara couldn't move. Her back ached like it were supporting a thousand mountains. She could speak, though, and that was enough. Her voice was barely there and sounded like dry ashes, but she continued anyway:

" _Adiuva me, Iona…"_

That woman skidded to a panting halt just beside her. She kept gesturing frantically to the same window, tears carving tiny trails in the dirt caked to her cheeks:

"There they are! Please, help them!"

Sara waited. She bowed her head and planted her knuckles into the ground. The smoke flickered and swayed, and Iona landed before her, a shining beacon of untarnished royal purple and gold amidst a backdrop of grey and angry, ashen red.

Sara pointed to the window. Iona craned her horned head in the direction of Sara's trembling finger. The dragon's flaxen wings flared and she trotted forward, gingerly, towards the crumbling building. She paused just before it, and slowly, gently, rose up onto her hind legs. Crouched, Iona from paws to horns was nearly fifteen feet tall; using the length of her hind legs, this gave her an added six or seven feet, and just enough to reach the window.

The humans inside of it gave her wide, awed stares. She offered her nose and neck as a ladder, the bottom of her toothed jaw just barely brushing the windowsill. Iona curled the edges of her deadly mouth in a strange draconian smile. She waited patiently, an affectionate purr rumbling in her long throat, and her buttery eyes blinking slowly.

"Come on, Henry!" the woman shouted, waving them on. "Trisha, Ophelia, you too! Hurry, please!"

Her voice seemed to snap them back into reality. The girls looked like twins, with the same shining black hair; they went first, each one of them sliding forward and holding onto one of Iona's temporal horns. They were young enough to kind of enjoy this experience - it wasn't everyday that a dragon rescued you from a burning building. Henry, the husband, took longer and was more hesitant.

It was just long enough for the brittle, charred boards at the building's heart to rend and snap completely. The top of the apartments tilted and yawned to the left. The wife's breath caught. Her daughters screamed; Sara just watched, unable to do any more.

Iona darted her giant head forward. Her front teeth nipped at the back of the man's collar. His longsleeved shirt saved his life. He shouted the whole way as he was was lifed to safety through the window by six-inch incisors; his home collapsed to Iona's feet seconds later, just as she put them all safely on the ground. Both girls ran frantically for their mother. Henry peered in wonderment at the gaping holes in his shirt. Iona retreated to Sara's side and helped her stand, using her nose lift up Sara's hunched chest.

Henry finally ran to his family. He hugged them tightly; his wife was sobbing, and his kids were shouting his name. All of them fled to safety seconds later, through the western gate, without a second glance at their saviors.

The dragon was more perturbed than her handler. It was subtle, but the spines at her neck and shoulders pricked and straightened as a low snarl boiled in her throat. Her scales seemed to shiver, creating a strange, rattling noise. She snaked one huge wing around Sara, protectively drawing the exhausted human close to her chest amidst a curtain of soft, leathery skin.

"It's okay," Sara coughed, resting her forehead against the beast's muscular shoulder. She smiled. Not far, someone else was screaming, begging for help. Sara inhaled and straightened her back. It hurt, and made her queasy. But she kept smiling, grabbing hold Iona's offered horns for support.

"Sissy always did say, 'our greatest deeds will go unnoticed.' Let's go."

* * *

"Stop!"

The Desian guard threw out one hand towards Raine. She fit very well into the costume; it was just the right amount of protective and revealing, and clung to her oft-unseen curves naturally, as had its original wearer. Desians, not much to her surprise, had run a rather sexist organization; while the males enjoyed a host of functional armor, apparently the females did not receive such a courtesy, and instead were deigned to wear half the material with half the functionality and protection.

She wore it like a champion. Her voice rang out, no less staid and confident: "We've done it!"

The guard paused. Raine couldn't see his eyes but it was clear he was evaluating each member of her

supposed captives; Sheena and Lloyd both wore their shackles with a barely-disguised amount of distaste. Genis and Colette followed along, realizing this was necessary, while Kratos remained similarly neutral, although the handcuffs on his wrists seemed completely fragile and useless.

"Done what?" the guard asked, palming his sword.

Raine jerked on Lloyd's chains and brought him forward. He scowled at her; this was not the first time she'd ignored it. "I've found the wanted criminal, Lloyd Irving!"

"What?" The guard seemed completely overwhelmed. "Good work! And you've even caught him alive!"

"I want to turn him over to the Five Grand Cardinals immediately," Raine began. Because she didn't really know which one ran this ranch, only that he/she was probably a member of that fated Desian organization. "Let me through."

"Understood," the guard replied without question. "Go on in!" And Raine could hardly believe that she was stepping into the Asgard human ranch. Her 'captives' were in a similar state of disbelief, although they thankfully maintained an appropriate downtrodden demeanor despite their longshot victory.

Raine remembered most details of the ranch at Palmacosta. She recalled the general layout, and that there were several healing and changing rooms meant for the ranch's staff. She went there first; her 'captives' followed behind her quickly and thankfully unnoticed.

"I can't believe that actually worked," Sheena was mumbling as she slipped off her handcuffs. "Maybe these Desians aren't as bright as I thought."

"Intelligence is not their strong suit," Kratos offered, making short work of his own cuffs. "The Desians' strength resides in their numbers, not their skills."

"Clearly," Genis muttered. He'd used a well-placed fire spell to melt the shackles from his wrists. "Sis, are you gonna stay in that uniform?"

The Professor was already halfway into a closet before she shot her brother a condescending glare. "Of course not. Wait a moment, please." She disappeared, then returned a bit later as her usual self. Genis breathed a sigh of relief at the comforting sight of those sepia-orange robes.

The room they were currently in had three doors - the one they'd come in, and two more along the western wall. The floor here was just like the Palmacosta ranch, a slick, silvery mixture of ceramic and metal. So far, this place looked to have been built with the same mysterious technology as before; soft white lights glowed from the tall ceiling and along the walls, and beside one of the doors was a large screen similar to that projector they'd seen in Magnius' control room. It had a moving image of some sort of conveyor belt. Hexagonal storage pods were being passed along from one side to the other, only to disappear into a cavelike chamber. Robotic arms would touch each one as it slid by, for a reason that Lloyd could't quite figure out. He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to the image, trying to see what, if anything was inside each one of those pods - and then something glinted. Something familiar that he'd seen a lot of by now.

Raine said exactly what he was thinking: "It looks like this is an Exsphere manufacturing plant."

"So it would seem," Kratos muttered. Lloyd glanced back at the mercenary; his voice had been strangely tense, and his shoulders and jaw seemed to be in a similar state. He looked uncomfortable. Lloyd didn't like it here, either; maybe the man was just being extra vigilant? He mentally shrugged and turned back to the screen.

"These are all Exspheres?" he asked, equal parts confused and awed. "Incredible."

"Shh," Colette cut in, her head tilted to one side. "I hear voices coming from the next room."

Genis quirked an eyebrow at her. "I don't hear anything."

"Be careful anyway," Lloyd insisted.

As if on cue, the northern door hissed open. Three men ran through it; they all looked to be in a hurry, as if they were being chased. The man in the lead, Lloyd instantly recognized due to his trademark winglike black hair and his strange grey robes and armor - Botta, the Desian he'd met back in the Triet Desert. That seemed like forever ago.

Botta came to a halt, as did the other two soldiers beside him. His eyes widened. "Hmm? You!"

"You're the same Desians we ran into before," Lloyd growled, "back near Triet!"

The soldier to Botta's right sneered and scoffed an amused laugh. "They still think we're Desians."

"Sir," the other began. "This is the perfect chance!"

Kratos stepped forward silently, one hand readying to draw his blade. "Are you looking for a fight?"

This seemed to jar Botta, who backed up and motioned for his soldiers to hold. "Wait. Kratos is with them. We'll retreat for now."

Lloyd glanced back and forth between the two men, eyebrows raised. "You two know each other?"

"I suppose," Kratos offered evenly and with a slight frown. "If you mean the fact that we ran into them at Iselia and Triet."

Botta frowned too. "I think it would be in both our interests for us not to fight here."

"Do what you will," Kratos said darkly. His hand remained poised on his sword's hilt, and his garnet eyes watched closely as Botta and his soldiers dashed past them and out the far exit.

As the door slid closed, Lloyd watched. Something made the back of his neck twitch. He felt at once heavy, laden with an embroiled wariness, like a wild animal suddenly sensing its predator. He saw Colette; the Chosen had her head tilted towards the same western door, though her eyes wouldn't meet his. She'd heard something there. He had too, though undoubtedly not as clearly - but enough.

Footsteps that clanked strangely, scraping, metallic. A thin, smug voice that issued forth condescending laughs as often as words. Lloyd turned and locked his eyes on the door.

A Desian entered- clearly, not just _any_ Desian. This man was taller. Skinny, and full of lithe, condescending power. Glistening, pale-blonde hair was slicked back atop his angled head. His dusty white face was just slightly wrinkled, most pronounced at the corners of his eyes and the edges of his wicked lips. A pair of sharp golden shoulder-guards accented his militaristic blue and black outfit, and his eyes… they were the _worst_. Impossibly thin. Black, and treacherous, and dotted with pinpoint red pupils. He looked utterly alien, full of a disturbing, whimsical apathy, and entirely unfit to be walking the earth.

His serpentine mouth curled into a sneer. "Well, this is a surprise."

Raine palmed her staff and narrowed her slate-blue eyes. Genis readied one hand on his kendama. Colette stood on her tiptoes, ready to unleash her wings. The back of Lloyd's left hand burned and screamed; the gem there had begun glowing ferociously, to the point that Lloyd could've sworn it was vibrating. He ventured a glance at Kratos, and instantly regretted it.

The mercenary looked livid. Wrathful. Lloyd hoped he'd never see that dark fire in Kratos' eyes directed at him, because it was simply _horrendous,_ and full of an uncontrolled bloodlust that Lloyd previously hadn't thought the man capable of.

Kratos glanced at Lloyd. And it was like pouring water on smoldering flames: that blistering glare eased into casual, familiar frigidity. Lloyd swore he heard the man deliberately breathe. He didn't look at Lloyd anymore; then again, Lloyd could no longer draw his attention away from this maleficent Desian, either. He kept speaking, and each word was like nails on a chalkboard, clawing and scraping at Lloyd's ears.

"When I heard we had some rats, I assumed it was only the the Renegades," the man continued, stepping forward with each of his gloved hands held behind his ramrod-straight back. "But instead, I find the wanted inferior beings."

Lloyd's breath shot up his throat and over his frantic, furious tongue: "Who are you?!"

The Desian stepped closer. His thin eyes narrowed even more, until they looked barely open at all, those unsettling fiery pupils flashing with challenge and interest. "You barge into my ranch, and then demand _my_ name?"

Lloyd only stared back in silent combat. He squared his shoulders and instinctively tried to hide the incensed stone on his hand; he wasn't sure why, exactly, because it had been awhile since any Desian had spoken of its presence. The Exsphere almost had its own will, and it desired nothing more than to _get away._

" _Some_ of you know me," the Desian continued, with a patronizing smirk. "I'm _sure_ of it."

"He's Kvar," Kratos said instantly, though the words seemed to disgust him. "One of the Five Desian Grand Cardinals."

This earned him a throaty cackle. "Ah, I see that I was correct." And here, every trace of that amusement and enjoyment shriveled up instantly, leaving behind a malicious husk. He threw one finger out and pointed straight at the hand Lloyd had tried ineffectually to conceal. "Now, onto pertinent matters: that Exsphere is without a doubt the product of my Angelus Project!"

"We have to go," Colette said suddenly, her airy voice tinged with certainty. "Right now. Please, Lloyd."

Lloyd didn't want to. He knew this creepy man had important things to say. He knew he needed to hear them, but he also knew that he trusted Colette. So he took her hand and tried to smile.

"Do you not know where you are?" Kvar hissed suddenly.

Lloyd paused. He took another look at that monitor, displaying the sorting and production of Exspheres from those pods. What was in those pods he didn't know, and he didn't ever want to, and all he wanted was to get _out_ of here-

"This is where the Exspheres are removed from the host bodies," Kvar stated simply. Factually. And with blazing pride. "Where they truly become powerful."

Raine spoke through a bone-dry, hesitant throat: "Do you mean that Exspheres are made from human bodies?"

Oh, that was _so_ cute. These inferior beings that had invaded his ranch apparently didn't have any idea why exactly they were here. Kvar felt it necessary to provide an explanation.

"Not exactly," he admitted. "Exspheres are dormant at first." He gestured one arm to the screen, which either by random chance or by his own twisted will, now displayed a long line of emaciated humans being fed along one of those same conveyor belts. "They extract nourishment from humans to grow and awaken." And here he delivered the final blow, watching their faces with a wide, crooked grin:

"Human ranches are Exsphere manufacturing plants. Why else would we spend our time raising and taking care of these inferior beings?"

"That's _terrible_ ," Genis spat. Marble smiled at him from his memory. He scowled harder.

"Terrible?" Kvar repeated, tilting his slender chin towards the tall ceiling as he breathed a laugh. "Terrible, is what _you've_ done." He pointed one savage finger at Lloyd. "Stealing and using Exspheres that we've invested so much time and care in creating. You deserve to be punished."

Lloyd's heart caught fire. He stepped forward even as a dozen Desians surrounded them, backing them all into a corner with silver sword tips, glowing metallic staffs and pointed spears. If he were alone, Lloyd _totally_ would've taken them all on without a second thought; but he had his friends to worry about too. And it stilled his vengeful steps. He grit his teeth. "Damn, we're surrounded…"

Kvar cut through his minions. He kept his hands clasped behind his thin back, jutting his armored chest forward. "Lloyd, your Exsphere was to be an offering to Lord Yggdrasill. It's time you gave it back."

"Yggdrasill," Raine echoed quietly. "I suppose that's the name of your leader."

Kvar ignored her. His obsidian eyes flashed impishly. "Now, for the sake of our great leader, and for the sake of my own success…I need that Exsphere!"

Lloyd shook his head indignantly. He looked for the thousandth time at the back of his left hand. "Again? What's so damn special about my Exsphere?"

Kvar looked offended at this, like Lloyd should've known better. "That is the result of years of time-consuming research." Offense curled into a grin. "I can finally reclaim what was stolen by that _filthy_ female host body."

Lloyd heard Kratos' breath hitch. The others just stared ahead, mortified and curious.

"What are you talking about?" Lloyd's voice was airy, and distant. Clueless. But as he kept speaking, it hardened, like water freezing into ice. "The female host body? You're not talking about…"

 _My mother,_ he wanted to say. But he couldn't speak those holy words in the presence of such a demon.

Kvar held one hand pensively to his chin, using his thumb and forefinger to stroke along his jaw. "Hmm, you don't know anything, do you?"

Lloyd stared wide-eyed at the Desian, his fingers loosening their grip on his blades and eventually resting uselessly at his hips.

Kvar continued, impassive. "That Exsphere was cultured on host body A012, human name, Anna - your mother."

His words were spoken so casually, and with such disinterest. As if whoever was meant to hear them should've laughed, or found the story amusing. Lloyd did anything but.

Anna. His mother. His left hand, and that grave in his yard back home, and those ghostly touches, and soft-spoken nightmares, and memories from a time before time-

Reality simply _stopped_. Lloyd stared down at his feet like he had to remind himself that they still existed. He realized absently that he was breathing hard; oxygen and rage filled his head with a furious buzz. He looked up at Kvar. His whole chest hurt. He wanted to curse, to shout, to scream, but couldn't say anything.

"She took it," Kvar was still saying, "and escaped from the facility. Of course, she paid for her crime with her life."

"You…" Lloyd snarled. His eyebrows were drawn in tight against his brow. Beneath his gloves, his knuckles turned white as he grabbed onto his swords. The left one shook, creaking against its scabbard, because his whole hand couldn't sit still, and burned with prickling, ravenous energy. "You killed my-"

"Now, now," Kvar admonished, arching his back, grinning with all the charm of a scorpion. "Don't blame me. I'm not the one that killed Anna. Your father did."

" _Liar!"_ Lloyd screamed, his blades scraping into existence before him.

Kvar laughed again. The sound was hollow, and heinous, and boiled Lloyd's blood. "When her Key Crest-less Exsphere was removed, Anna turned into a monster… and _your father_ killed her. Pathetic, don't you think?"

Kratos rarely displayed anger. The worldly mercenary was usually last to fall for emotional tricks or goads, and excelled at reminding his companions to keep a clear head.

...This was not one of those times.

His right hand crunched into a fist. It hovered just beside his hip. He lowered his head, letting his bangs hide volcanic garnet eyes, and churned out in low voice: "...Do not speak ill of the dead."

Kvar threw his slick head back and laughed heartily. "Who cares? They were both just a couple of filthy humans - worthless _maggots_."

Lloyd stepped forward. The swarm of Desians surrounding him made little difference; his gaze was locked on their leader. He managed to speak, in a vicious, raw voice that didn't much resemble his own: "Don't you _ever_ talk about my parents like that!" He stepped forward again. And once more…

Sheena didn't know any of these people very well yet. But she knew that this situation was _not_ going to end well, and that Lloyd was not exactly rational right now. A dozen Desians wouldn't normally be a huge challenge for the five of them, but Kvar had them backed into a corner with no room to fight. Raine seemed too stunned to move or think, as did Genis and the Chosen, and Kratos had this enraged look on his normally stoic face that almost perfectly mirrored Lloyd's.

Yeah, this was up to her.

She swiftly palmed her seals. She looked down at the piece of inscribed paper in her hand with a soft smile.

"I'm gonna use the last one, Grandpa," she muttered quietly.

Sheena flung her arm in a small arc. The seal erupted in light and vanished completely. Smoke billowed from where it had been, along with a blinding flash - the Desians shouted their surprise and scrambled backwards. Above them, hovering in midair, her guardian appeared, all long, lanky arms and ruffling green feathers. It shrieked from its shining beak; the air whipped to life, throwing the Desians across the room like dolls, Kvar included.

"Let's go!" Sheena commanded, already sprinting towards the exit. The others quickly followed. The made a beeline for the front gates; the guardian had put the whole ranch on high alert, and whatever patrols that were typically outdoors had been called inside for reinforcements. Which meant no one, thankfully, saw them leave.

They came to a panting halt once they'd reached the shelter of the trees. Colette was grinning at Sheena, her cerulean eyes wide with awe and wonder. "Thank you, Sheena!"

"Don't mention it," she grumbled. And she looked at Lloyd, who kept staring intently at the back of his left hand. "What are you going to do now?"

"Let's return to Luin first," Raine suggested calmly, with an empathetic glance at Lloyd.

"Okay," Genis breathed.

Kratos nodded stiffly. "I concur."

Lloyd didn't speak.


	22. Idem (Same)

Chapter Twenty-Two

 _Idem_

* * *

 _Skies are blinking at me_  
 _I see a storm bubbling up from the sea_

 _Baby where do I sleep_  
 _Feels so good but I'm old_  
 _Two thousand years of chasing taking its toll_

 _And it's coming closer_

* * *

It was dark by the time they returned to what remained of Luin. The fires were no longer burning, save for a few streetlights and lamps that had managed to survive the Desian onslaught, eerily casting bouncing shadows along the graveyard of buildings. A grand fountain used to stand at the city's main plaza, with regal statues that sprayed graceful jets of water; even these had been shattered, although the water still fizzled out through the broken spouts.

Sara had used these as a makeshift shower. Her pumpkin hair had been smudged black and red, along with her face and every inch of her exposed skin. Her cheerful teal duster had transformed into demure, ashen blue. She emerged from the water a new person, and though her meager bar of soap hadn't washed _all_ the stains from her clothes, the blood spatters and soot streaks were at least less noticeable. She was just pulling her semi-dry hair back in its usual half-bun when she saw the others cross the rickety eastern bridge.

And they were _all_ there. No one was being carried or looked injured, and they didn't seem in a hurry.

"Oh, thank _gods_ ," Sara exhaled and grinned, blinking away overjoyed, grateful tears. She jogged towards them - but the closer she got, the faster her smile tumbled from her face.

They were alive and well, but everyone looked sick. Their eyes were all trained on the ground, their mouths pulled into varying degrees of either disgusted of furious scowls. Lloyd's was the worst. His face was normally so vibrant and passionate, so hopeful - now it looked cracked, shattered. Horrifically vulnerable. Kratos walked just beside the boy; the only acknowledgement of her presence that he gave was a brief flick of his half-hidden gaze to hers before it returned to the dark distance.

Something had gone very, very wrong.

Sara slowed to a halt. She swallowed hard, and said with all the timid tenderness she could:

"...Lloyd?"

For several seconds he said nothing. Actually, he hadn't spoken once since they'd left the ranch. And other than necessary chitchat about gels and supplies, neither had everyone else.

Finally, he shook his chestnut head. His eyes closed as his hands curled into fists. "Did you know?"

Sara blinked, bewildered. "Uh. Know what?"

"You said you knew about the Asgard ranch," he continued. His voice was low and flat. "Did you know what it was for?"

So.

 _That_ was why.

Sara's lips pressed together in a thin line. She breathed out through her nose.

"That's why you didn't want to go, isn't it?" he finished. And he met her eyes, and she wished with everything inside of her that she could unsee that hollow look in his. "Because you know what Exspheres really are, right?"

The others were staring at her now, too, their faces half curious, half shocked. Except for Kratos - just a minute hint of compassion bled through his stony glare.

"I've known since I was ten years old," Sara said gently. Fury slammed into his expression so hard it should've knocked him unconscious, but she continued before he could speak:

"Kvar killed my sister, Lloyd."

His jaw dropped. The incensed words about to pour from his throat trailed off in a rough exhale. " _Wh-what_?"

"She was kidnapped and tortured at that ranch. Kvar ordered all of it." She needed to be calm, to be an anchor. Because he clearly needed one, even if she didn't think she could play the role. "All for an Exsphere."

Lloyd just gaped at her, gasping, his shoulders starting to tremble.

"We used to live here," Sara continued, gesturing one hopeless arm to their surroundings. Calm… Anchor. "Me and her. That's why I wanted to stay. Luin was all I had left of her."

His eyes glistened. His breath hitched. He still looked so awful, but Sara ignored it.

"You're right, though," she grumbled, peering down at her claws. "I didn't want to go. She died because of what Kvar has done. But I had to stay _here_ , because this is where she _lived_."

"My mother," Lloyd blurted, without really realizing he was speaking at all. "He said - Kvar said - my mother was kept there, too." He looked down at his shaking left fist. "And this Exsphere is… is…"

Sara felt like a comet crashed into her shoulders. The world seemed to sway and shake; gravity doubled its force.

"Oh, Lloyd," she breathed.

She waited for him to speak again. They all did. Genis and Raine looked back and forth between the two of them in disbelief and hope. Sheena, too. Colette looked loving, hopeful, wanting the best for everyone in this entirely terrible situation. Kratos was unfathomable, a stormy, churning cloud.

When Lloyd still didn't say anything, Sara decided she would instead:

"Well, that sucks."

He choked a strained laugh as he nodded. One corner of his mouth twitched beautifully into a bitter, unavoidable smile before flattening into a scowl once more. That was all she needed, though.

"Kvar's an asshole," Sara continued, an appropriately draconian growl lingering in the base of her throat. "He's hurt so many people. But I'm done here. I've saved everyone I can. So… can I help you take him out?"

Lloyd deeply regretted his anger, a black hole that gnawed at the pit of his stomach, and he wanted nothing more than to apologize - but it was clear she didn't care one bit. So he just straightened his spine and nodded again, instead.

"Tomorrow," he vowed. "We're going back. _All_ of us."

Sara nodded too. "Deal." And she smiled, a ghostly, gorgeous thing, and held her arms out to her sides just as her claws flung back into her gauntlets. "Now, come here."

Lloyd didn't try to argue. Her hugs were _painful_ \- but he kind of wanted that right now, to snap him out of his own head. To hurt somewhere _else_. So he closed his eyes and lunged forward; typically, he furiously avoided this kind of thing, this weird, uncomfortable physical affection - _especially_ in the presence of others. Dirk had drilled into him the value of being a 'strong, independent man,' and standing 'firmly on his own two feet'...

But Lloyd's forehead pressed into her shoulder, and he squeezed back anyway.

"It's okay, kid," Sara mumbled against his hair. "Be fucked up, for as long as you need to. You've more than earned the right."

And somehow those were the most comforting words he'd ever heard.

"Also, I made tacos," she tacked on.

That kind of helped a little, too.

* * *

Genis still didn't really understand any of this. Which was appropriate, honestly, because it didn't make much sense. How could a person's _life_ be trapped in something as small and insignificant as the stone on the back of his hand? He hadn't stopped frowning at it. He used to like looking at it, because it felt good to wear, and made his magic incredibly strong, but now… he kind of wanted to take it off, and never see it again.

He'd never been able to deny the familiar warmth of the energy it filled him with. It reminded him of every time Marble would laugh at his dumb jokes just to make him feel better, or the look of disbelieving hope that she'd wear when he showed up with extra table scraps. She was forever grateful and kind, even when she admonished him for showing up at all since it put him at such risk. Until today, he'd always thought that it was mostly in his head, that he'd mentally attached the energy to his memories of her.

But it _was_ her. Her essence, her life, her very soul was stuck in here. And she'd been turned into a monster because of it.

Genis blinked away tears. They were strange tears, because they weren't just sad. They were angry, and disgusted, and made him very tired. He peered across the campfire at Lloyd, and felt a combination of slightly better and even _more_ sad, because as conflicted as Genis was, it couldn't have been anything compared to his best friend. Genis wanted very much to try and make Lloyd feel better; usually he did this with witty and sarcastic comments to break the icy mood, but this just didn't seem like the time. So he just kept silent and tried not to look at his hand.

Lloyd stood very suddenly. Colette, who had been sitting beside him, stood as well, her face a pale mask of worry. He walked purposefully to the edge of the lake beside them. It was oddly, serenely beautiful, with the way the azure moonlight glinted on its crystalline surface, and seemed unfit to exist next to such a forsaken ruin. He stared at it intently, watching the slow shifting of the water - and with determined, methodical movements, he tore the Exsphere from the back of his hand and raised it behind his head in one tight fist.

Colette's hands flew to her mouth. Raine gasped; Genis blurted his name. Sheena and Sara gaped, mortified - but Kratos dashed forward, a burgundy and dark blue blur. Firmly, and with no small amount of subtlety, he grabbed hold the teen's wrist.

"This… this _thing…!"_ Lloyd choked, his throat clogged with too many words. He lurched against Kratos' grip with a fuming snarl. Kratos held on, unphased.

"If you throw away that Exsphere now," the mercenary began evenly, "do you think you can finish this journey?"

Slowly, Lloyd lowered his hand. Kratos finally released it, though it was clear he was ready to use physical restraint again at the slightest provocation.

"Yeah, I know," Lloyd grumbled. "We can fight because we have these. I know that. But Exspheres exist as a result of taking someone's life!"

"And?" Kratos scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. "Those people didn't become victims because they _wanted_ to." His voice changed just a little, from cold and militaristic to just the tiniest bit soft. "But I doubt they would want to be thrown away after being turned into Exspheres."

Colette stepped up to Lloyd gingerly, her tiny hands fidgeting restlessly in her lap. "Um, my opinion may not matter much because I don't use an Exsphere, but I believe the Desians _will_ defeat us if we throw away our Exspheres now."

Lloyd widened his eyes at her. He'd expected dissent, but not from _Colette_. She was always the first person to agree and go along with him, to let him lead the way-

"And if that happens," she continued resolutely, "more people will lose their lives to these stones." She risked a glance at his face. "I don't want that to happen. I don't want this journey to be meaningless." The _please_ implied at the end was made all the more prevalent by its absence.

Lloyd looked at the water again. Kratos was still standing expectantly behind him, his cinnamon stare burning holes in his back.

"Colette's right," the man agreed quietly. "We can throw away the Exspheres at any time. But right now, we must carry the weight of the hopes and dreams of those victims, and fight for their sake - as well as ours." He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head a little, scrutinizing, calculating. "Didn't you say you weren't going to hesitate anymore?"

"I just _can't,"_ Lloyd protested with a fervent shake of his head. "I… I know you're right, but…" He finally turned around; the look he gave Kratos hid nothing. "But right now, just let me think by myself for awhile, okay?"

He didn't give Kratos the chance to answer, or even to nod. Lloyd brushed past him and walked stiffly into the crumbling shadows.

* * *

A wrought-iron bench had survived the town's destruction. So had a few chairs, one of which had blistered, flayed paint but was structurally sound enough for Genis to safely sit on. Colette claimed another, and she was just tall enough that her thin legs dangled and swayed over the ground. Kratos sat beside her, with Sara and Raine to his right, sharing said bench. Lloyd had a seat, too, but his was empty. And had been for awhile.

Sara slid to the ground on her knees. Laid out on a small placemat beside the fire was what remained of dinner; she noticed that Raine still hadn't eaten, for whatever reason, and she glanced back over one shoulder at the healer as she fashioned a plate. The eldest Sage was giving her brother a concerned stare that Sara knew was entirely too analytical; the Professor was famous for overthinking things, sometimes to their benefit but other times to her own demise. Things were still a bit tense between everyone, really, which made Sara determined to lighten the mood even just a tiny amount.

Sara knew that Raine loved vegetables and strange fungi that no one else ever ate. The Professor hardly ever consumed meat, which was honestly the main staple of Sara's diet and something she would never understand… So Sara sprinkled some onions in a corn tortilla, along with beans, and mushrooms and sprouts that she couldn't remember the name of, but knew were edible and tasted good. And she topped it all off with her trusty glass bottle of hot sauce.

Raine smelled the concoction before she saw it. When she finally managed to look down, the plate was hovering just beneath her chin, and Sara was grinning at her.

"Taco?"

"Eh, well…" Raine _was_ hungry, though she didn't want to admit it. And whatever Sara had made actually smelled rather good, which admittedly bested her own skills (or lack thereof). She gingerly took the plate. "...Alright."

"Finally. I haven't seen you eat in for _ever_. You're _already_ too skinny."

"I am _not,"_ Raine assured with pursed lips and a defiant flash of her eyes.

Sara quirked one eyebrow. "Those robes don't hide everything."

"This is how I prefer to look," Raine growled. "I can assure you I am healthy."

"Arm wrestle me. I dare you."

"Battle me with magic. I dare _you."_

Sara pouted. With sort of impressive skill, she made herself another taco although she never spared one glance at what her hands were doing. "Fair enough."

Raine took a timid bite of her dinner. It was _delicious,_ dammit. Sara did the same, a silent challenge, devouring her fourth taco with gargantuan, messy bites. The Professor grimaced - but then slowly allowed herself to smile a little.

"As strange and silly as it seems - I now seem to understand why we ran into you, Sara."

The orange-haired woman wiped her mouth with the back of her glove (and Raine wondered if _that_ is why they were black…). Then she smirked wryly. "I never figured you to be someone that believes in fate."

"I don't," the Professor corrected instantly. "But I'm not one to overlook meaningful coincidences, either." She looked over one shoulder, and could just make out the silhouette of Lloyd's crimson outline in the distant darkness. "To understand his situation so well… it's nothing the rest of us can relate to quite the same."

Sara's expression dimmed. She idly wiped her hands off on her napkin and peered over at Kratos. His own were lightly clasped, his elbows casually resting on his knees as he stared past both women. He had to have heard Raine; they were mere feet apart. Sara watched him for a few seconds, but he didn't acknowledge either of them, much less say anything. So she didn't, either.

"For what it's worth," Raine continued quietly, staring down at her half-eaten and entirely unplanned dinner, "I am sorry you suffered, too. Ten years old is far too young to learn of such evils."

Sara shook her head. "I think," she began, barely above a whisper, "there's never a good age."

Kratos stood, now. For a few moments he didn't move, and simply remained standing, like he needed to convince himself to continue. He was staring hard just past Raine's shoulder at that same red silhouette. They all watched him carefully, in a suspenseful sense of wonderment. Sara said his name, a soft question.

"I'll take care of it," he stated factually, and mostly to her. Anyone else was welcome to hear, although it wouldn't really mean the same thing.

He began walking forward. As he strode past Sara, she blinked, inhaled, and reached for his hand.

He stilled instantly - but he didn't try to remove her touch. She knew there was no way he'd let her see his eyes, so she didn't bother, and instead focused on the sky-blue fabric of his fingerless gloves, and how out of place it looked against her gray and black. Since she was sitting, the way she had to hold on was a bit awkward, a strange curling of her long fingers around his broad palm. She was honestly pretty surprised at how _not_ nervous she was right now. So she dared to grip a little tighter, and slide two fingertips just barely beneath the rim of his glove and onto his bare skin.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Kratos nodded: a businesslike, stony affirmation. But he gripped a little tighter, too, just before he let go.

* * *

"How would you feel?"

That's the first thing he asked the boy. It had to be. Lloyd turned around to face Kratos with huge, rattled eyes that shone like brown diamonds through the night's shadows. And like that was the last thing he'd ever expected to hear.

Well, _good_. Kratos knew that one could only reach their peak once they'd fallen to their lowest. He didn't have to wonder if Lloyd had arrived there yet - he knew. Lloyd's boots crunched on the ashes and broken boards as he shifted his feet uncomfortably, the only sound for miles. His hands formed solid, irate fists.

Kratos stayed motionless, expectant. Lloyd took forever to find his voice; to the mercenary, it seemed like mere seconds.

"But, she…" Lloyd swallowed the uncomfortable lump clogging his throat. "She suffered for this. How can I keep using it?"

A valid query. Kratos respected the boy more for asking it, and for taking a second to reconsider his decisions at all. The mercenary had no interest in quelling the intimidation he knew Lloyd felt each time he was around, and instead used it to his advantage, to ask questions that he knew no one else could really procure an answer to:

"If you lost your life to an Exsphere, what would you want done with yourself?"

Lloyd had clearly never considered this before. He paled. He broke out in a cold sweat. He'd only used Exspheres to his own advantage, for what he'd thought was _right,_ and if there was even the slightest chance that what he'd thought was _wrong,_ then…

'I…" Lloyd didn't know what to say. Kratos knew this. Kratos knew a _lot_ of things about Lloyd that the teen hardly knew about himself. Lloyd was young; the cusp of eighteen was hardly a time that a person could be considered developed or experienced. Normally, Kratos didn't mention these things much, because he wanted Lloyd to figure them all out for himself. After all, sink or swim was the fastest, most effective way to learn a new skill or a life lesson…

But tonight was different. Tonight, Kratos kept speaking, because he had to.

"If it were me," the mercenary began, "I'd want to be useful to someone with the will to break this tragic cycle."

Lloyd was still listening with utter disbelief. After all, this was really the only time so far, in all their travels, that Kratos had spoken more than five words to him in a vein different than either scrutiny or admonition. This was… comfort? Advice? _Not real?_

Neither of them knew the answer. But Kratos was the first one to keep talking, surged into the present by the past.

"Then… perhaps I could atone for some of my sins."

Oh, well. He'd actually _said_ that, hadn't he? Lloyd was narrowing his eyes and twisting his mouth at him in an appropriate expression of confusion. The teen nervously shifted his feet again.

"Your sins? Like what?..."

"That's not important," Kratos said quickly. He turned halfway, refusing once again to fully meet the boy's eyes. The scalded ground kept his attention, as did his grey and white boots. His cinnamon eyes were mercifully hidden from Lloyd beneath those obscuring, thick burgundy bangs.

"What _is_ important is your decision about Exspheres," he concluded gently. And then he was gone, turning away swiftly, that dark blue cloak melding with the horizon.

He had no idea if that was the _right_ thing to say. He _should've_ known; after all, he was by far the most experienced of their group, and the most level-headed, and the most _rational_ -

Kratos scoffed at himself. He didn't hope much; normally, the emotion seemed futile and useless to him. A desire for something unattainable that would only result in disappointment. Such frivolous emotions were meaningless, and he veered from them at all costs, yet… he hoped something good had come from this. Otherwise, despite the countless awful things he'd seen in his many years, life would truly, now, be too cruel.

As everyone knew, the mercenary was exceptionally good at maintaining a calm demeanor - but right now, somehow none of this mattered. Experience was currently ineffectual. Kratos was young again, and stupid, and scared, and the tiny world felt too big. His heartbeat was always steady and low; battle and fear did nothing to increase its fervor, but this…

His chest ached. Breathing hurt. He felt lightheaded, and about to either pass out or explode entirely, whichever deigned itself to happen first -

And then he saw her. Luin had small hills on either side of it; she was sitting on top of one, away from everything _,_ and taking reverent solace the night sky.

It was late, and he'd seen her like this before. He should've slept. He should've ignored her and woken up the next day to a new sunrise and slew of problems, but his legs wouldn't listen, and neither would his idiotic, deafening heart. So he kept walking up the hill, towards a dot of fiery orange atop emerald green and onyx-blue.

"This is a clear night," he said mildly. Smalltalk, right. _Nice_. He really didn't know if he was close enough for her to hear his voice, and part of him hoped she wasn't, so that he could turn around and pretend he'd never spoken anything.

But he was, apparently, because her head jarred up off of her knees and turned towards him. Startled as she was, she made it a point to welcome him with her eyes. And she smiled, and he began to melt unstoppably.

"Yeah. It's pretty amazing," Sara agreed. "It gives me something to look at when I can't sleep."

His stomach churned, equal parts pleasant and nauseating. He walked closer, for some stupid reason. "Are you familiar with the constellations?"

"Only a few," Sara admitted, tilting her chin towards the stars. "I know the Queen, Cassiopeia. Because I wanted to be as beautiful as her when I was a girl. And Delphinus, because I always thought dolphins were cool."

Kratos felt himself wandering towards her. He sat down gracefully, crosslegged beside her bunched frame. He didn't have much control over his muscles currently, so _wandering_ was really the most accurate description of how he'd ended up here.

He _did_ know the stars, though, perhaps better than anyone, after a lifetime spent studying them on lonely nights. So he freely offered this knowledge, hoping it would lead them somewhere good. Or at the very least, somewhere _better._ He eased one lithe arm towards the obsidian heavens. Though she couldn't see it exactly, his index finger traced invisible lines along a series of stars: "Not far from her is the great bull, Taurus. And beside Taurus is Orion, the legendary huntsman of the sky."

She glowed. Myth and lore always piqued her interest. She smiled at him, childlike, wonderful, and he tried not to look, but did anyway.

"What did he hunt?" Sara asked. "Not big ol' Taurus there, did he? Because it looks like Taurus would win."

"That would have indeed been an epic battle," he agreed. If she shifted mere centimeters to her right, she'd end up with her shoulder pressing against his. And he really didn't care. Much like she'd been earlier, when she'd taken his hand, he felt unexpectedly not-nervous and calm. Which was a huge change from the near-madness he'd touched minutes ago. Kratos found himself liking it, appreciating it, even though he shouldn't _._

"However," he continued, drawing more unseen lines with his finger, "Taurus had friends in Leo, the brave lion, and Draco, the wise dragon. Orion would have been outnumbered."

"Draco," she repeated softly. Her smile faded, but traces of it still hovered on the edges of her lips. "Everyone in Kozei knew of him. It was said that any dragon with a venerable heart would join his ancestors in Draco's stars."

He glanced at her Exspheres. He remembered first picking them up, claiming them from the bloodied mud. He remembered the grim way she asked for his sword, and the embroiled look in her eyes just before she'd turned around and slain what remained of her beloved beasts, like she would've rather run the blade through her own neck.

...Kratos _knew_ that look.

"I am sure Tarja and Ko'tenda are there as we speak," he offered, after a few mournful, quiet seconds.

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think so, too."

She wouldn't look up anymore. Her mouth pulled into a tense frown, and she kept blinking quickly, as if chasing away threatening tears. He watched for awhile, waiting for her to speak. Not far behind them, he heard the others back at camp talking and milling about, but Sara and her silence held his focus.

"...You are troubled," he muttered.

She shook her head and held her eyes closed for a little while. One of her hands curled into the grass. "I don't want to be. I'm trying _really_ hard. Everyone else is being so brave. But…"

Her voice started to crack. She cleared her throat and took in a bracing breath. "Tomorrow, I'm going to enter the one place on this planet that I swore I'd never set foot into." That fist in the grass tightened, ripping a few blades from the earth. "And Kvar will be there. That fucking _bastard_. He… he took my whole life from me - twice over. _Everything,_ Kratos."

Rage was obvious here, but he sensed that wasn't all. "You are worried you will not be able to face him?"

She dropped the grass. And she started to idly set the torn blades back upright, as if in an apology. "No. Just the opposite. I'm worried that I… won't be able to hold back."

"Kvar deserves no mercy," he assured smoothly. "You have no need to worry."

At last, she looked at him. Her chocolate eyes were wide beneath flamelike bangs, and her freckled face astonished.

"He has earned his fate," Kratos continued wrathfully, his low voice barely above a growl. "Whether by your claws, Lloyd's blades, or my sword… Kvar _will_ die tomorrow."

He knew then that he'd given too much away, because her expression wasn't only confused anymore. It was concerned, and empathetic, and then finally resigned as she let out a long sigh. She finished reconstructing the grass, though the replaced blades stuck out at odd, noticeable angles. And he watched her from the corner of his eye as she closed the minute distance between them and mindfully, tenderly, allowed her head to rest on his shoulder.

She couldn't see it, but his eyes closed. Air rushed into his lungs, and it was beautiful, life-filled. He remained still, and memorized the pressure of her jaw on his collarbone, her forehead pressed against the crook of his neck, the length of her arm nudging against his.

"Let's… let's not talk about this anymore, okay?" she murmured. She pointed one finger to the sky. "Tell me more about the stars, Kratos."

And she couldn't see this either, but he smiled. "...Alright." He reached out, too. His fingers cradled her thin wrist. Their eyeline was nearly matched, now, so he guided her finger to a collection of stars, and drew a slow, languid shape with it. "Have you heard of Sagittarius, the great archer of the sky?" He moved her arm just slightly, and drew another. "Or Hydra, the legendary seven-headed serpent?"

"Seven heads? That sounds awesome. Let's go for that one."

* * *

A/N: Hello and thank you as always. Lyrics at the beginning are "Closer" by Kings of Leon. Thanks again and please review!


	23. Venatio (Hunt)

Chapter Twenty-Three

 _Venatio_

* * *

When he woke up, the early sun was blazing.

It bathed each shattered house and burned board in heavenly, golden light. Lloyd was actually awake first - an unheard-of accomplishment. He didn't do a whole lot with his extra time, really - just to sit on his dew-dampened bedroll, his gloves off and his bare hands in the wet grass, and to stare into the horizon.

Some sort of bird was singing its tiny heart out in a tree not far away. The sound, along with the wind and the soft lapping of lake water, was divine. Lloyd closed his eyes. He smiled. Yesterday had nearly destroyed him; he'd been so focused on what was _wrong_ with his life, and everything that he hated, and wanted to fix… and he'd forgotten to remember what he still had.

His friends were here. Everyone he cared about was just waiting for him to return, to become himself once again. He wanted to say sorry to all of them, to explain exactly how deep and dark the shadow that had taken him yesterday truly was - ghastly, vapid and unavoidable - but it didn't matter. They cared about him that much; an explanation for his behavior was unnecessary. All that mattered was that he'd found his way back, and that he was smiling again.

He got the fire started. He made coffee for them all, too, though he wasn't exactly sure how much of the grounds to use… he remembered the cup he'd drank from Asgard's Inn, and tried to duplicate the thickness and color. He set out seven mugs and had them all filled and ready. Genis awoke next, lifting his chaotic silver head from his thick pillow and blinking sleepy ice-blue eyes several times, like trying to make sure what he'd seen was real.

Lloyd's face was fuzzy and strange due to the fire's heat, but the grin he wore was familiar and unmistakable. Genis regretfully climbed out from beneath his comfortable blankets and stood, stretching small arms into the air and creaking his back as he yawned; he finished the yawn in a lazy, casual sentence:  
"You look better today, Lloyd."

"I am," Lloyd replied effortlessly. He felt incredibly thankful that it was Genis who had woken up first; there really was nothing like talking to your best friend, especially after such a hard day. "I… still kind of can't believe it, though. But I've accepted it."

Genis scrubbed at his face and hopped into one of the chairs beside Lloyd. That courageous bird caught the young mage's attention; he glanced at where he'd heard its melodious song before returning his attention to the greenish stone on the back of his hand. "I sort of had a feeling about it."

Lloyd's eyes widened. "About what?"

Genis shrugged. "When I received power from my Exsphere, it always felt so warm and gentle." He smiled, though most of it was hidden from sight by the morning sun's shadows and his silvery bangs. "That was Marble lending me her power."

Lloyd took the seat beside Genis that until now had remained empty. The younger Sage eyed his friend a bit warily, in a surreptitious evaluation that was necessary for him to continue. Genis knew Lloyd very well, but even so, there were some things that deserved to be treated with extra dignity and respect. At twelve years old, Genis was still young, but he wasn't a _kid._

"I'm sure your mother, too, has been watching you this whole time, Lloyd."

Lloyd breathed a soft laugh. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Genis beamed. He picked up one of the cups and took an experimental sniff. "You made this?"

"Well, yeah," Lloyd said, half-frowning. "So?"

"It smells weird."

"Shut up, Genis."

The rest of them awoke within the next half hour, hushed and quick. After long enough, Lloyd had become the center of their attiention; a mixture of blue, hazel, brown and cinnamon eyes stared at him expectantly. He wondered when exactly he'd become the leader of this group; he wasn't the oldest, by far, and he wasn't even the Chosen, but somehow… everything depended on him, and what he thought was okay. He didn't really understand why, but he accepted it nonetheless.

"Well," Kratos was saying silkily. "What now?"

Lloyd kept smiling. His heart galloped with brilliant, renewed purpose. "There is one thing I realized. I'm certain that my mother must have wanted to live longer than she did."

Sheena's jaw dropped. How this crazy kid could leap from despair to such blinding motivation in only a night left her baffled. She rarely felt any kind of discomfiture, but her fingers curled in against her palms, and she found herself having to look away. Because she wished she could share his inspiration, even just a little bit.

"So," Lloyd continued steadfastly, with a grin at his left hand, "I'm going to live… for myself, and for my mom, too."

"In other words," Kratos affirmed, "You're going to fight."

"Yeah," Lloyd agreed. He inhaled again; the air was sweet, and felt amazing in his lungs. His shoulders broadened. His left hand felt hot, but not angry, or sad. Just _good,_ and everything he needed. "For the sake of preventing anymore victims like Marble and my mom." And here, he remembered that hug from last night; Sara's words had been unexpectedly perfect, because she knew. Her head was hung low. She wasn't looking at him at all, but it didn't matter. He kept smiling anyway.

"And… like Sara's sister, too."

At the mention of her name, Sara lost it instantly. Lloyd expected as much. She was an open book, unable to hide - much like him. She tried valiantly, yet ineffecually to subdue everything she felt, and kept wiping at her eyes and face as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

"Uh. Well," she managed, at the end of a watery exhale. She didn't belong with him, or any of them, really. And it was absolute random circumstance that she was here, but maybe that was okay. She sniffled and threaded her fingers through her hair. "Th-thanks, kid. That's a _super_ shitty reason for our motivation, but… whatever works." She met his gaze and nodded, diamond-hard, determined. "Anything. For _them_."

"Yeah," Genis blurted. "Me too. I'm going to fight on Marble's behalf as well."

"Me too," the Chosen added, brushing flaxen hair from her graceful face. "I'm going to regenerate the world as quickly as I can."

"I think you've made a wise decision, Lloyd," Raine offered, strangely serene and quiet. "People are sinful beings. That's why we must continue to bear the burden of our sins, for as long as we continue to live."

They really didn't know, but Sheena also wore an Exsphere. Where she came from, it was offered only to those with a mission from the highest order. She'd never thought once of it, just that it was something that would aid her in her progress. No one from her side gave a damn about how these stones were made, or why they gave the wearer powers of any kind…

Sheena felt herself speaking before she could control it: "Life survives at the cost of another? I… I don't really know how to say this, but I don't think there's a way to justify the lives sacrificed to make these. They have to be stopped at all cost."

"What she said," Sara agreed, and extended one fist to the black-haired girl with a lopsided grin. "Come on, hit me up."

Sheena grimaced. She glared warily at the fist like it were about to impact her jaw. But finally, after a few seconds, and the realization that this gesture was actually one of congratulations and gaiety, she tapped her knuckles timidly against Sara's. The dragon-tamer grinned, almost maniacally.

"Hell yeah."

"Uh… right."

Kratos abruptly cleared his throat. "...Kvar will undoubtedly increase his security now. We won't be able to get in easily."

"I know of a secret entrance I learned from my contact," Sheena said, looking around at all of their surprised faces. "It's supposed to be along the perimeter, a drainage gate. It's a longshot, but we can give it a try."

* * *

This was twice now that Sheena had been correct. Trusting her was paying off. She didn't quite know why, at this point, that she'd even offered to help or stray from her mission - only that she had an infallible sense of what was _right_ , and helping them simply went along with her instincts. She led them through a thicket of brush and to a five-by-five sized grate along the ranch's western wall; the way the trees and foliage were arranged, the scouts along the top walkway were mercifully prevented from seeing them.

Apparently she was too quick, and found herself having to pause and wait for the others to catch up several times, as if they were not as accustomed to sneaking. She figured this was inevitable; they seemed to be a group that relied mostly on sheer strength, rather than stealth. Perhaps she could teach them a thing or two, once this was over.

With a quick, well-placed seal, she made short work of the grate in a mysteriously silent explosion. Kratos entered first, ignoring the lingering smoke; as the tallest, he had to bend the most to walk through, but somehow managed to do so with a ubiquitous grace. Lloyd was next, followed by the Chosen, then the Professor and Genis, and lastly Sara. Sheena followed them into the darkness, her boots adding to the chorus of light splashes that each of their feet made in the shallow water.

After a few sloshing minutes, Kratos held up one hand. They stilled. Many voices could be heard, low and vibrating through the walls. The mercenary gestured towards the ceiling, where another grate could be seen, and through which a dim light poured. He removed it with calculated, precise movements. And he jumped upwards through it, soundlessly, as if defying gravity.

By the time they'd all joined him on the upper floor, three Desians were already taken out with precise sword strokes, and Kratos was methodically cleaning the blood from his blade. A control console sat in the middle of the room; Lloyd recognized this place instantly. He'd seen it in just a brief glimpse from the doors the last time they were here. Raine approached it, her chin tilted confidently.

"Let's bring up the ranch-wide map," she said, as her slender fingers flew across illuminated keys. Before them, and over a glowing, cylindrical device, hovered some sort of hologram that flickered and came to life.

Lloyd grinned. "Professor, you're fantastic!"

Sheena was staring at Raine with narrowed, curious eyes. "Hmm, so there are people on this side who can operate machines, too."

Genis turned to her, frowning skeptically. "On 'this side'?"

"Ah, um," Sheena mumbled, waving a dismissive hand. "Nothing. Just talking to myself."

"This is where we are now," Raine announced, gesturing one hand to a section of the hologram. "...And this is where Kvar should be," she added, pointing to a section of the image on its far side. She frowned. "It appears that in order to get to the floor Kvar is on, we'll have to deactivate the guard system."

Colette blinked wide cerulean eyes. "Um, 'guard system'?"

"This section," the Professor continued, and a portion of the holographic map blinked. "If we don't deactivate this guard system, we can't get to Kvar."

Lloyd stomped his feet impatiently. "What are we supposed to do, then?"

"Calm down," Kratos chided, nudging one shoulder towards the map. "There should be a switch somewhere to deactivate the system."

"Precisely," Raine agreed; the console beeped beneath her fingertips. "Here. This is the deactivation switch."

"This is stupidly complicated," Sara muttered, scowling.

"Okay, then," Lloyd began without question. "Let's go deactivate it-"

The lights in the quiet room flashed angry red. An alarm sounded, not far off - a swooping, unnerving horn blaring a warning.

Raine shut down the map instantly. "Dammit. They've detected my access of the main computer."

Genis swallowed hard and looked at his best friend urgently. "Lloyd, what do we do? The Desians will be here any minute!"

Lloyd wanted to say something awesome and clever. He wanted to announce a plan, and have it be foolproof, and have everyone follow it without doubt - but he had nothing. His face scrunched in thought and confusion and he breathed a growl. "Dammit…"

"Let's split into two teams, to deactivate the system and infiltrate Kvar's room," Raine suggested cooly.

"What?" Genis shouted, his eyes wide. "We're going to split up?"

Kratos huffed a terse sigh and nodded. "There seems to be no other way." His garnet eyes hardened, and his long fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. "I would like to be in the group that goes after Kvar."

"Me, too," Sara ground out, flexing her claws one by one. "For _way_ too many reasons."

"I want to go, too," Genis shouted, rising to his tiptoes, as if that would make him easier to hear.

"And me," Sheena added.

The Professor turned to the Chosen. "Colette," she began gently, "please choose for us."

Colette's hands clasped beneath her chin. "I'll leave it to Lloyd." And he really shouldn't have expected a different answer, although part of him wished the responsibility hadn't been laid on his shoulders yet again.

"I know you'll do a good job," the Chosen added earnestly, and with a brilliant smile.

Lloyd released a rough breath. "Well, I'm going after Kvar. I want to avenge Mom."

And here, he looked around at each of his companions - and he was truly left without words. How could this be his choice? All of these people mattered so much to him… Genis _always_ wanted to be by his side; leaving him would be strange indeed, since they'd literally begun this journey together. The Professor was Lloyd's voice of reason, the weather-mane that guided his often-flailing conscience. Colette depended on him for almost everything, and always wanted to be close and help him in any way she could. Sheena, while new to him, was quick and dependable, and had saved his life when she could've just as easily left him for dead at Desian hands. Kratos had already voiced his wishes; the mercenary looked lethal, ready to pounce, and was undoubtedly the most powerful of their band of misfits. And then there was Sara - unpredictable and dangerous, like a ticking bomb, but full of fiery strength and a motivation that matched his own.

Lloyd took in a slow breath and closed his eyes. As he opened them, the breath released, and he brandished his blades.

"Kratos. Sara. Come with me."

"Thank you," the mercenary said swiftly, bowing his burgundy head. Lloyd didn't really have time to find this gesture strange, although in any other circumstance it would've appeared extraordinarily out of place.

Sara simply met Lloyd's eyes and nodded resolutely. "I won't let you down."

Both she and Kratos stepped up behind Lloyd, flanking him on either edge. This left Sheena, Colette, the Professor and Genis on the other side - while their numbers were not evenly matched, Lloyd felt better that Sheena was on the other team, since the entirety of their frontline fighters had followed him - and the ninja-girl had proven herself to be plenty versatile in this area.

"Lloyd," Kratos was muttering duskily, just as he brandished his gleaming sword. "Let's defeat Kvar together."

Lloyd had never heard Kratos talk like this before. His deep tone was dark, and gravelly, and utterly self-assured, like he'd already seen the success of their future. Sara spoke to him, too - her raspy voice attempted to be just as confident, but still leaked hints of fear and doubt that he honestly found incredibly comforting, because they were things he also felt, but would never say out loud.

"I'm ready, and I'm with you. For my sister, for your mom, for _everyone -_ let's go."

"We'll meet in Kvar's room," Lloyd commanded. Those doors hissed open, and he walked through them, and it felt like he was leaving half of himself behind, but he knew he needed to.

"Bye, Lloyd," he heard Colette say, just before he lost sight of her.

* * *

"Let's get started," Raine said without hesitation. She led the way down a connecting hall towards their target of the guard system's locks, that map still fresh in her mind. The ground rumbled for a few seconds; not far off, dozens of footfalls caused a miniature earthquake. Undoubtedly drawn by the Professor's quick fingers.

Sheena quickly shoved herself forward, in front of them all. The confident smile she wore was only marginally convincing, but it would have to do. "Let me lead the way. I'm quick enough to dodge any traps there might be."

"You're amazing, Sheena," Colette exclaimed earnestly. "And so brave. Thank you!"

Was the hallway getting warm? It had to be. Surely Sheena Fujibayashi was not blushing. "Er… right. Everyone, follow me."

There were a few Desians they didn't manage to evade; with their odd combination of skills, (two mages, a holy spellcaster and Sheena's variety of seals) the fights were rather stilted and uncoordinated, but they managed. Sheena was not used to fighting this out in the open, but it was necessary; Colette was tough, and could deal a decent amount of damage with her chakrams when needed, but it was nowhere near enough to be the sole physical offensive force. Every now and then, Sheena would catch the blonde girl staring at her in between each of her moves, and then trying to clumsily replicate them with her own limbs. It never did quite work out for her, and she more than once ended up on her rump or her face, but always returned to her feet with a smile.

They were just about to walk past a door; it was larger than the others, and inlaid with an intricate series of gold and copper designs. Raine paused. "Wait a moment. This should be the entrance to where the captives are held."

"You think so?" her brother asked, wide-eyed.

"I remember from the map." She held one slender hand to the door's surface and briefly closed her eyes. "There are many people inside. Let's hope most of them are captives, and not a resistance force."

Slowly, and with a silence they were all immeasurably thankful for, the door slid open. The room beyond was dimly-lit; shadows lingered, partially obscuring both of its floors. But there was just enough light to make out an array of all-too-familiar cages along each wall. The smell that hit them was equally as familiar, and twice as sickening.

Two Desians instantly noticed their presence. The soldiers stared at them, stunned; this gave Sheena just the right amount of time to dash forward and fling a pair of seals over each of their mouths. She didn't use this technique terribly often, but it came in handy in situations like this, where stealth was of the utmost importance.

"Whoa," Genis said, grinning. "I didn't know you could do _that_ too."

The black-haired girl then kicked both soldiers firmly in the face. They collapsed on top of one another in a comical pile. Sheena smirked, but then quickly shook her head and gestured for her companions to follow her further inside.

Raine made her way to the room's control console. The captives, malnourished and undoubtedly sleep-deprived, now began noticing something was amiss and nudged their bony faces and emaciated arms between the bars of their cages. Whispers of disbelief and curiosity snaked through the dense air. The Chosen held her breath as she peered around at the dozens of awed, dull eyes.

"Hurry," she mumbled; as soon as the word left her lips, the cells opened, and the Asgard human ranch's prisoners took their first free steps.

They huddled around Colette and the others, still whispering, slightly wary. They wore tattered shoes that were barely more than a sack tied around their ankles. Their outfits were a mottled pale brown, long sleeved shirts and baggy, moldy pants. Most of the men wore shaggy beards, and those young enough to not have already gone bald had stringly, unkempt hair.

"Who are you?" one of them asked breathlessly.

"Guardians of the Chosen One," Raine replied without hesitation. "The Chosen has come to rescue you. Now pull yourselves together."

"Yes," Colette agreed, speaking over the surprised mutters and accenting each of her words with a heartfelt nod. "We're going to get you out of here."

"By the way," the Professor continued, scanning the crowd with narrowed indigo eyes. "Is there anyone here from Palmacosta?"

An older man stepped forward, with thick-rimmed bottle glasses and a crooked back. "I am."

For just a moment, hope bloomed on Raine's face. "Do you know a girl named Chocolat?"

"Ah, yes," the man continued, adjusting his dusty glasses. "She underwent host body testing here."

"'Host body testing?'" Genis parroted, dreading the answer.

"The test decides which ranch we are taken to. I believe they said she was being taken to Iselia."

Raine exchanged quick glances with her brother and Colette. Obviously, they had all wished that the girl would have been among _these_ captives, and they could put a stop to the worry that ate at the back of their minds - but it wasn't to be, apparently. So Raine nodded and moved on. "Iselia. I see. Thank you." She straightened her back, and inclined her chin; Colette smiled, because this was _The Professor._ "Now then, let's get out of here. Everyone, follow me. Understood?"

"We still have to unlock the guard system," Sheena ground out, crossing her arms.

"Of course. There is a service entrance just beside our destination. These people can escape through there."

Sheena huffed a laugh. "You think of everything, don't you?"

"Someone has to."

* * *

One step. _Crunch._

Another. _Crack._

Steady steps atop deserving Desian bodies… It was a good sound to Sara. She made it again, twisting her boot into limp fingers. She tried to focus on the present moment, not their goal - although the _goal_ was most important, obviously, and that was what had brought her here, to this unholy place at all.

Between the three of them - herself, Lloyd and Kratos - she had taken out the most Desians. Lloyd was fierce and strong, and the mercenary was efficient and consistent, but she was _fast,_ and fueled by delicious fury that rocketed her forward with inhuman precision. Her eyes hadn't darkened once, though. Not yet. They remained clear, unobscured. Maybe she was getting a little better at this. Maybe that training was actually getting her somewhere.

These long, empty hallways were unnervingly quiet; the silence ate at her sanity quicker than anything else. It seemed to amplify the hungry sound of her heartbeat. But she remembered a few phrases like ' _just breathe'_ and _'focus, Sara.'_ These kept her whole. Kratos' voice in her head was enough, although she looked at him often, from quick, side-eyed glances.

He knew. The mercenary was nothing if not observant. He communicated with her through looks and gestures alone, and he offered these freely, as if sensing her needs. Lloyd was much more focused, much more unaware of his surroundings; both of his companions realized early on that it was their job to keep him as such, to assure his arrowlike path. Youth could be a drawback sometimes - but now, in a situation that benefited far more from lack of thought than its abundance, Lloyd's brilliant, one-track mind was invaluable.

"Are we there yet?" Sara grumbled; after a few seconds, and a scrutinizing sweep of the area, Kratos and Lloyd replied in-sync: "I hope so."

They finally reached a door; it was far more grand than the others, and looked to be cinched tight with a series of metallic locks. Sara wanted to try and kick it down anyway. "What the _f-_ "

"We must wait for the others," Kratos cut in coolly, keeping a vigilant eye on the path they'd come from. Lloyd did, too, a small version of the mercenary. Sara kept glaring at the locks.

"You guys," she muttered.

Both men looked at her, a curious glance between red and brown bangs.

"It's very possible that I'll lose my shit in there," Sara continued. She pressed one palm to the door, each of her clawed fingers splaying against its gleaming surface. "If I go too crazy, you have to-"

"Shut _up_ ," Lloyd barked.

She whipped her head around to him, addled, gaping, but he continued like he hadn't noticed: "I know you'll be fine. I'm not even worried. You're here with me for a reason - and you're _not_ going to fail. So shut up, Sara." He added 'please' in a slightly apologetic whisper.

Kratos was looking at the teen with wide, sort-of impressed garnet eyes. He'd said something like that to her once, too, although with far more grace and subtlety: _"If you continue to doubt yourself, I will not be part of this conversation any longer."_ Sara smiled. She growled a laugh, and her fingers curled into the door.

"Okay, kid. Thanks."

Within the walls beside her, something rumbled. She held her breath - they all did. Timidly, she began withdrawing her hand away from the door - and just as her fingers left it, each one of those locks instantly snapped open.

"They did it," she breathed.

Kratos and Lloyd stepped up beside her. There was a small button at waist-height just beside the door, and the mercenary hovered his hand just on top of it. He turned his head and gave them both a fierce, sincere glare.

"Get ready," he ordered. But they all were, and had been for a long time.

The door eased open. The air inside felt alive, prickly. Beyond the doorway loomed a cavernous, circular room that glowed with thousands of soft lights and thrummed with a steady mechanical hum. It reminded Lloyd slightly of the control room that Magnius had been in, back near Palmacosta - but more refined. Elegant, almost, like the Desians had attempted to recreate something close to cozy with their murderous, disgusting sense of style.

Kvar had his back to them. He either hadn't heard the door open or was pointedly ignoring it, because his attention remained on some sort of communicator just in front of him. It displayed an image of a very strange woman, with lime green hair and a set of intricate golden armor. Much like every other female Desian, she was dressed provocatively, with an extremely low-cut red top and leggings that left her upper thighs bare.

Lloyd gave zero shits about who or what she was. He squared his shoulders, tightened his grip, and announced with a grinding, confident shout: "I've found you, Kvar."

Now, Kvar gave him a goading smirk over one shoulder, but he didn't speak. The woman did, though, in a silky voice, just as her eyes landed on the boy in red. "So, this is Lloyd." She smiled, a wicked curve of her full, dark lips. "I see, he _does_ bear a resemblance."

Resemblance? To _what_? Lloyd's eyes thinned. Sweat beaded along the back of his neck. He glanced to his left, at Kratos, who was wearing a terrifying scowl, and then at Sara, whose freckled face was oddly, serenely calm. And the only indication of emotion she gave was the way her thin eyebrows were drawn together, and the constant, anticipatory shudder of her claws.

"So," Kvar finally said, turning halfway to face them. He was still sneering. "You've come." But he returned his attention to the communicator a moment later, and that sneer twitched into a perturbed frown. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't change the subject, Pronyma. It's clear you've been stealing research data from my Angelus Project."

"I grow tired of your accusations, Kvar," the woman sighed, crossing her arms over her ample chest. "As I have told you, I know nothing of it. Much unlike the precious Mana Cannon that you and Rodyle are constructing."

"Stubborn woman," Kvar mumbled indignantly, and gestured to her as if Lloyd and his friends were supposed to agree with him. "I suppose I should expect no less from one who usurped the leadership of the Five Grand Cardinals. Take heed, Pronyma:"

There was a tall, metallic staff resting on a holder to the wall just beside him; he casually made his way over to it and picked it up. He jabbed the bottom of it towards Lloyd. His black eyes narrowed, and his crimson pupils gleamed as he grinned. "Once I retrieve the Exsphere from this inferior being, _I_ will become the leader of the Five Grand Cardinals. When that happens," he finished, his thin voice dropping low, "you'll be _begging_ for my forgiveness."

Sara exhaled a growl. "Do you _ever_ shut up?"

The image of the woman vanished. Kvar tilted his chin in interest, his gloved fingers absently drumming against the staff in his hand. "Now, _you_ weren't here last time. Why do you look familiar…" He snapped his fingers. "Ah, yes. You're that inferior being that invaded my dragon ranch." His long nose wrinkled. "I would remember your hideous hair anywhere."

Sara's hands roared at her, sending scalding, twitching thrums of life and power up through her wrists and arms and into her heart. Tarja's wings flared, a looming shadow of forest-green; Ko opened his great mouth, baring dozens of razor teeth tinged with fiery breath-

"The same," Sara snarled, flexing her claws. Her Exspheres blazed. The fact that he was looking at her made her want to vomit. "And now, those dragons are going to help me kill you."

"Interesting," Kvar was saying calmly, tapping a few fingertips pensively to his chin. "None of my Desians were able to equip the Exspheres we harvested from the dragons. The lucky ones were able to escape with only minor burns, but a few perished from them."

The step Sara had begun to take forward halted. She tilted her lowered head to one side. "Wh...what?"

"Further experimentation is needed, obviously," the Desian continued, twirling his staff deftly in one hand. "You'll forgive me if I need to keep the beasts for a little while longer."

Sara's shoulders twitched. It was subtle, but the air around her frame began to vibrate and twist. "You… sonofa-"

Something shoved her to the side; she stumbled, barely remaining on her feet. The floor beneath where she'd been standing was now charred, smoking, sizzling, and Kratos returned his attention to Kvar.

"Now," the Desian hissed. The top of his staff still fizzled with the last traces of lightning. "Return to me what's rightfully mine."


	24. Vindicta (Vengeance)

Chapter Twenty-Four

 _Vindicta_

* * *

There were two long, peculiar white ribbons that hung from the back of Lloyd's collar. He'd never known quite what they were for, or why Dirk had fashioned them into his outfit at all (some ancient Dwarven tradition, perhaps?). But they looked kind of cool, especially when he was running or performing jumps, so he really didn't question them much. ...Until now.

Lloyd charged at Kvar first. His lean legs ate up the slick floor; his youthful face was fixated into a furious grimace. His blades sang as they carved the air - the _air,_ dammit,not Kvar's flesh like he'd hoped. The Desian moved so quickly that he seemed to fade in and out of existence on a whim; and before Lloyd could react, a brutal hand had gripped the aforementioned ribbons and pulled tight. His mouth flew open. Breath choked in his throat. He barely had the right of mind to hold onto his swords as he ended up thudding flat on his back. His chest emptied; the muscles of his abdomen and diaphragm spasmed, unable for several horrendous seconds to return air into his starving lungs.

"Leave him _alone-!"_ Sara howled. The ambient light seemed suddenly incapable of penetrating the area along the back of her neck and her spine. Shadows gathered there, in the shape of murky, smoky spikes. She lurched forward and used both hands to slice at Kvar's neck - he retreated, leaping elegantly into the air and landing several feet away, his staff still twirling in one hand.

"This is interesting, indeed," Kvar was saying, his words crawling from those thin lips like black sludge. Sara and her snarl kept his attention - and especially those ethereal spines along her back. He glanced down at a few of his fingers as they rubbed together, as if testing the fabric of the air. "A demonic vessel… I have not felt this presence since-"

Kratos was in front of him instantly; Kvar was barely able to dodge the swipe of the mercenary's blade. It nicked just along the outer layer of the Desian's uniform, leaving a small, delicate gash against his flank. Barely enough to bleed; just enough to matter.

Kvar's face had been many things so far. Smug, amused, defiant, perturbed… but not angry. His pointed ears seemed to flatten along his skull like those of a vicious wolf. His lips peeled back, too, and his slitted onyx eyes widened.

"How _dare_ you."

Lloyd had gotten to his feet. Sara was flanking them, and Kratos kept rushing forward, his gleaming blade poised, his red-tinted eyes predatory.

"Ah, a challenge," Kvar murmured. He snapped his fingers. A compartment in the ceiling slid open, and a trio of hovering, mechanical devices descended. Each of them were about a third of Kvar's height. They were almost skull-shaped, with rounded heads and long, toothlike spines that twisted and churned, whipping lightning to life. They orbited around Kvar's shoulders like miniature planets.

He flung out one arm and pointed at Kratos. They converged, forming an indoor stormcloud that rained lightning bolts down towards the mercenary's head-

" _Basilisk Breath,"_ Sara roared, just as she leapt over him. Not all dragons were of the fire element; one of the most famous, the Basilisk, was a creature of earth - lightning's natural enemy.

Kratos instantly crashed to his knees - not from an injury, but to give her necessary room. He managed to look up just as she coated her arms and hands in the beast's power and caught that raw lightning in her palms. She held it there for a few moments, shoulders hunched, smiling maniacally, her face alight with its oscillating, chaotic sparks - and then redirected it harmlessly into one of the many computer consoles just beside her. It crackled and belched smoke into the dense air, a mechanical throe of death. She landed firmly on her feet in front of him. And though he didn't need it whatsoever, he grasped her offered hand as he stood. The leftover sparks on her fingertips made his skin tingle.

Lloyd ran. He ran faster than he ever thought he could. His left hand burned and screamed. Each muscle fiber in his body lit up in a magnificent, glowing chorus, and he launched forth into the air over both his friends, a swirling circle of blades and fury: " _Tempest!"_

Two of the three floating robots met a quick end. They crumbled to the ground in a sparking pile of metal and spare parts, still twitching, as if attempting to bring themselves back to life. The third had a considerable chunk sliced from its side, but managed to remain in the air, though its path was lopsided and clumsy.

Kvar didn't look smug anymore. He stopped twirling his staff and instead held it stiffly out in front of him in defense. He'd begun to fight for air, his armored chest heaving unevenly.

"I've got the last one," Sara rasped. And both men paused to stare at her; Lloyd was hesitant, unsure. Kratos simply sought affirmation, though his sword lowered just slightly towards his feet.

She nodded. She flung out one claw. " _Go_."

Lloyd lunged forward. Kvar evaded his first strike; he turned quickly for another. The Desian's remaining mechanical aid began to spark. Sara leapt towards it, a human cannonball, crunching her claws into its metal hull and wrapping her legs arounds its spines like a ravenous python. She brought it with her to the ground and tore at it mercilessly, disemboweling its silver innards.

Kratos paused. He palmed the hilt of his sword in his right hand, and brought the blade parallel across his chest. His other hand pressed flat against the blade, just near its tip. Holy symbols evanesced beneath his feet, glowing brightly. He watched Lloyd closely with vivid cinnamon eyes. The teen struck again and again, savage, overwhelming, and led always by his left hand. Kvar retaliated - Lloyd staggered backwards, and Kratos unleashed his spell with flawless timing: _"Eruption!"_

Mana condensed under Kvar's boots, heating, melting all it touched. The ground rumbled; great pyres of lava and flame shot upward, tossing the Desian helplessly into the air. He hissed a curse and righted himself. When he landed, Lloyd was waiting for him.

There was a weak spot in Kvar's armor, just along the back of his shoulder. Lloyd had noticed it before; he remembered reading in Kratos' book to always look out for the enemy's weakness. So before the Desian could turn around - Lloyd thrust one blade at him. The tip of his rapier eased perfectly between the seams of armor. Kvar choked a gasp, his back whipping straight, and his beady eyes staring in wonderment at the bloodied tip of the blade jutting through his chest.

Everything silenced. Sara was standing now, beside Kratos, who had lowered his sword. Lloyd jerked his blade back; Kvar's wiry frame went stiff, then slouched forward. He ended up on all fours, clutching at his dripping chest, fighting for rattled breaths. And slowly, little by little, he eased the rest of the way to the floor.

Lloyd's heart was tumbling beneath his ribs. His hands shook; he felt like his grip might simply crush the hilts of his blades, one of which was coated in glorious, ruby red vengeance.

"I did it," he heard himself say.

He looked up at Kratos and Sara, almost frantically, like he needed to be reassured that this was actually real. And they both nodded at him, and he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"I did it, Mom," he continued breathlessly. "You've been avenged."

Sara sheathed her claws. For a few seconds, she hid her face in her hands, and then dragged her fingers back through her hair as she looked towards the ceiling. It looked like it was hard for her to remain standing, but she did anyway.

"Big Sis," she was muttering. "He's gone. Rest, now."

Kratos said nothing. He kept flicking his eyes from Lloyd to Kvar and back again. He looked uneasy, and not the slightest bit relieved.

Suddenly, the door they'd come from opened. Raine stood in the entryway, with Sheena, Genis, and Colette all behind her. The Professor only briefly acknowledged Kvar's presence as she walked towards them.

"We freed the captives," she announced quietly, meeting Lloyd's overwrought gaze with one of necessary calm. "And we've learned of Chocolat's location."

Lloyd's stunned face broke out in an overjoyed grin. This was officially the best day ever. "Really?!"

"...Look out!"

Several things happened at once.

He heard Colette shout, but had no idea what she was talking about. He stared at her, baffled, and watched her dart towards him like she were about to offer a giant hug - but instead, she shoved him to the floor. As he landed in a sitting position, he was just about to ask what her deal was until he saw the flash of Kvar's metallic staff, and the trail of blood spatters from where his body had been, and heard a grotesque, sickening _thump_ that jarred Colette's tiny frame.

Her eyes flew open wide. Lloyd shot vertical and caught her just as she started to fall forward. He stared in horror at her back; a foot-long gash had been torn in both her tunic and her pale skin. A few tendrils of her golden hair swayed and settled into the trickling blood, turning a shining orange, like the hues of a decrepit sunrise.

"Lloyd," she said softly, and tightened her arms around his neck. "Are you okay?"

His mouth hung open. He raised his gaze to Kvar, who was now attempting to limp away towards the far exit. Sara cut the Desian off instantly, a vicious snarl darkening her freckled face, her claws poised and ready. Kvar halted, grimacing; he had one hand pressed into his wound, though it didn't do much in the way of slowing his bleeding.

Colette slowly released Lloyd. Which was good, because Lloyd was going to make her move anyway - not that he didn't care about her health, or want to make sure she was okay - but because he'd thought Kvar was dead, and now he was _absolutely_ going to correct that mistake.

"You _bastard,"_ he seethed. He didn't look for a chink in the armor this time, but he didn't need to. Kvar turned to face him at the last second, gasping - Lloyd plunged his sword through the Desian's chest, all armor be damned.

And Kratos, who had until now remained stoic and motionless, was instantly beside Lloyd doing the same. Lloyd felt the impact sing through his own sword; satisfaction coiled in the pit of his stomach. Kratos always _did_ have a stronger arm than him. This was the first time he'd rejoiced in that fact.

Kvar laughed. It was a gurgling, moist, strained sound that Lloyd never wanted to hear again. But he wouldn't look at Lloyd. Instead, he fixated his sable stare on Kratos. The Desian's thin lips curled into that same snakelike, pompous grin, even as blood trickled from its corners and crawled down his neck.

"Kratos… you _pathetic_ , inferior being."

Lloyd withdrew his sword and stepped back. Kratos, however, withdrew his sword and stepped forward.

There was a swift fluttering, and a flash of orange, black and teal. Sara extended the first claw of her right hand. And she stabbed it up through the base of Kvar's pointy chin with one solid thrust, into his twitching, impious tongue. He moaned, a hollow, bleating, wonderful sound. Sara watched, her eyes flickering, teetering right on the edge of darkness. The command dripped and slithered from her tense lips:

" _Silence._ "

Lloyd couldn't see the mercenary's eyes behind those burgundy bangs, but he was rather glad of this. He _could_ see gritted teeth, and a wrinkled nose, and a tense, angled jaw. And he could hear the low, raging grumble that was Kratos' voice:

"Feel the pain…"

Kratos slashed once: a great, merciless, sweeping arc of his shining blade.

"Of those inferior beings…"

Again, in the opposite direction - and then finally once more, clear through sternum, heart and spine.

"...As you _burn in hell!_ "

He lurched backwards, as did Sara. The three of them stood there, watching, as Kvar's body crumpled to the floor, his weeping mouth still gaping. His wounded chest did not rise and fall anymore. His eyes were still open, and whatever pitiful excuse for life that once existed there had vanished.

Kratos flung his blade in a short, sharp line. Red dots speckled the Desian's pale, lifeless skin. Kratos returned his sword to his scabbard and closed his eyes. Both of his hands were crunched into trembling fists at his sides, and he fought mightily to release them, but they wouldn't comply. His entire body, from grey-white boots to the tips of his spiked hair, was trapped in continuous, unrelenting tension.

He heard a sharp _snikt_ as Sara's claws retreated into her gauntlets. He finally opened his eyes. She was standing beside him, although her attention had shifted from Kvar's body to Kratos' rigid face. She clearly had no idea why he was acting like this, but it didn't matter. The last of her shadows had retreated, and her expression was now composed and even as he met her russet gaze.

"Just breathe," she said.

He nodded, and he did. Her presence beside him kept him anchored to the earth. He heard her breathing, too, deliberately, and it helped that much more.

"We've got to get out of here, guys," Sheena was saying urgently, once again the necessary impartial voice of reason. "We can see to Colette's injuries once we're in town."

"But there's nothing left in Luin," Genis protested. "What if she needs a doctor?"

"It's okay," Colette cut in, shaking her head fervently. "I'm okay, so… right now, we need to do something about this ranch. Right, Lloyd?"

Lloyd had a thousand words perched on the tip of his tongue, but he reigned them in. Kvar's corpse was staring into his back. He _had_ to get out of here. "Professor, can you make it blow up like last time?"

Raine held a few fingertips pensively to her chin. She approached the nearest console and brought about a new chorus of clicks and beeps. "I'll give it a try."

" _Blow up_?" Sheena echoed, mortified.

"We should head for Asgard," Kratos suggested, now that his jaw was working once more. "Genis is right. Luin, as it is now, is no place for the Chosen."

* * *

They left. Not once did Colette look nearly as okay as she claimed, but she wasn't flinching or crying, or feeling the least bit dizzy. Raine had partially healed the wound, but for some reason her artes seemed only half as effective, as if Colette's very skin were protesting the aid of her magic.

Ten minutes later, Asgard's human ranch met the same fate as its sister in Palmacosta. Not much remained of the facility, save some mounds of rubble and a cloud of thick smoke. Hardly any of the Desians had enough time to evacuate. But that was not something the Professor would worry about now. Never, if she had any say in the matter.

Given the Chosen's injuries, and how Asgard was at least half a days' travel on foot, they opted for Sara's dragon-aided transport once more, and arrived within an hour at its familiar front gates, though a bit windswept and tired.

Kratos led them all into town. Genis thought the mercenary was acting strange, and had been since they'd left the ranch. The Chosen herself had even noticed something was amiss, and though she hadn't said anything, she approached her guardian with a sense of restraint and caution.

Firstly, Genis checked on the bandage that Raine had fashioned across Colette's back- it held, and didn't appear bloody at all. So he met the girl's eyes, and they nodded at one another in silent understanding.

"Um, Kratos," Colette began, feather-light, innocent. "You have a scary look on your face."

"Yes," Raine affirmed, an actuary calculating risk. After all, Kratos was the one who typically guided them; if something was hindering his judgment, it was her duty to fish it out and bring it to light. "Did something happen?"

His long stride hesitated just slightly, but continued uninterrupted a moment later.

"No," he assured. But his voice was weird, and gravelly. "I'm the same as usual."

Genis noted the peculiar hunch to the mercenary's shoulders. He raised one silver eyebrow. "You're lying. Anyone can see you're mad about something."

Kratos stopped walking. He whipped his burgundy head around towards them. " _I am not angry!"_

Genis, Raine and Colette slammed to halt. Their faces drooped, astonished. Kratos exhaled a burdened breath. He turned away, holding one hand to his forehead, beneath his bangs.

"...I'm sorry," he murmured. "Please let me be alone for awhile."

They continued towards the inn, but he remained several steps ahead, like he were surrounded by an invisible force field. Genis and Colette were happy to comply.

"I wonder what that was about," Raine muttered quietly.

Beside her, Sara nodded. She kept staring intently at the mercenary's broad back. "Me, too. I'll go talk to him later."

Genis slowly shook his head. "You're crazy."

* * *

Seeing as how they were short on gald, and not financed by an outside party, they opted for a joined room at half the price. Lloyd hadn't stopped looking at Colette. The Chosen was tucked neatly into a plush, comfortable bed. Her back had been bandaged and cleaned. Her eyes were closed peacefully, and the thick comforter drawn up beneath her small chin looked pleasantly warm-

But Lloyd knew. Lloyd knew she could feel none of it. Not even her wound, or the softness of the pillow beneath her flaxen head.

"I can't keep it a secret any longer," he said suddenly. It had started out as a thought, but then unexpectedly left his mouth as actual words. But when he realized he'd said it, he was glad.

Genis and Raine had been organizing their packs; Sara was cleaning and polishing her claws, while Sheena was making tea for them all and Kratos sat alone in the far corner, glaring out the window. But now, all of their attention went to Lloyd.

"Everyone," he continued bitterly, "listen to what I have to say. Colette… can no longer feel anything."

"What?" Genis asked, blinking. "What do you mean?"

"Colette is growing closer to becoming an angel." The Chosen still had her eyes closed, and her head

turned away - but he knew she was listening. Because… "Now, she can't sleep, or feel hot or cold… or pain, or _anything._ She can't even cry." He had to force himself to say the last words; he didn't even want to hear them. "Becoming an angel means losing her humanity."

"Wait a minute," Sheena started, holding up one hand. "So, each time Colette releases a seal and gets closer to becoming an angel…" She swallowed hard. "She loses a part of what makes her human?"

"Losing her humanity?" Genis said, and shook his head. He looked across the room at Colette's head peeking out under all those blankets. "That's terrible! Then… what's going to happen to her in the end?"

The Professor cleared her throat. She looked oddly uncomfortable, and not nearly as sure or composed as she normally came off. "Ah, that's-"

"Professor, it's okay." Colette slowly sat up. Her hands rested in her lap, and she was smiling cheerfully.

"But, Colette-"

"I'm sorry to worry everyone," the Chosen cut in. Her smile dimmed just slightly, but she tugged it back to its full brightness a moment later. "Right now, things are a little difficult. But once I become a complete angel, it may be a lot easier. So don't worry. It's okay."

"It's _not_ okay," Sara growled, frowning. "Stop saying that. Why should you have to suffer for everyone's sake? Why can't we all save ourselves?"

"Don't you miss the taste of the foods you like?" Sheena asked, now feeling a bit guilty for enjoying the tea in the mug beside her. "And you can't even feel the warmth of someone when you hold their hand…"

Colette gingerly shrugged off her covers and stood up. Her back didn't hurt, but she made sure to not open her wound again with any unnecessary movements. "Thank you, Sheena. But if I quit now, all the people suffering throughout the world won't be saved."

Sara stood, and took a step towards the girl. "But, you-"

"Please remember," Colette pressed on, holding her clasped hands over her chest as if she were praying. What she was about to say was true, and it was a _gift_ \- not a curse. Or so she had been told, and tried valiantly to believe. "I was born for the sake of the world regeneration, so I'm going to make sure I do my job. Okay?"

"Yes," Kratos said, a stony agreeance from the shadows in the corner. "That is the fate of the Chosen."

Lloyd gave the mercenary a desperate glance. "Isn't there anything we can do? Find some way where Colette doesn't have to become an angel?"

"The world will be regenerated when the Chosen becomes an angel," Colette said quietly. "It's always been like that. And it probably always will be."

Raine breathed a sigh. "Alright. But, Colette, the path you've chosen is not going to be easy, you know."

The blonde girl nodded. "Yes, Professor."

Lloyd looked back and forth between them. How could they just talk so casually about this? Like it were even an option? It made his blood boil.

"I won't accept this," he vowed. "There _has_ to be another way." Colette was just about to start talking again, and he simply couldn't deal with it anymore. Not after today. So he turned around and darted for the door. He flung it open and stalked out into the hall, and then out the inn's front entrance, and finally, mercifully into the night air.

He wasn't sure where he was going, exactly, but it was _away._ And that was what mattered.

Colette flinched when the door closed. Her shoulders slumped and she hung her head. "I'm sorry, everyone. This is my fault…"

"No, it's not," Raine assured, resting one hand gently on the girl's shoulder. "Lloyd is just having a hard time right now."

"...You are enduring your pain, Chosen," Kratos rumbled, garnet eyes meeting sapphire. "Lloyd is just crying out because he can't endure his own."

Raine nodded. "You should rest. I'm sorry his attitude is causing you stress."

"Yeah," Genis agreed. "Lloyd's just not as good at remaining calm as you are, Colette."

Sara's gaze flitted around to each of them, her mouth hanging open, her hands solid fists. "What is _wrong_ with all of you?!" And she stomped out the door, too, slamming it behind her hard enough that it was a miracle the frame didn't crack.

Genis gestured after her. "And neither is she, apparently."

* * *

In the center of town, there stood a stone outcrop that branched off of the mountainside. It was a bit treacherous to reach the end, since the path there was rather thin, and every now and then the wind would gust strongly enough to sweep the average person overboard. But Lloyd braved it anyway. He sat with his legs dangling over the ledge. Beneath his crimson boots was only darkness - the outcrop stretched over the vast chasm that neighbored Asgard, and that caused its trademark moaning from the wind.

He wondered how deep it was. What creepy monsters laid at the bottom, if any could survive that deep. He wondered how long he would have to fall before he hit solid earth-

"...I knew I'd find you here."

Lloyd raised his head and looked back over one shoulder, startled. This wasn't exactly a popular location, and he didn't think he'd been followed - but apparently that wasn't the case. He pulled his legs up over the ledge and sat crosslegged as he turned to face black and gray boots, and a teal-blue duster, and wild pumpkin hair.

"Sara?"

"You're like me," she continued, smoothing her bangs back from her warm, freckled face. "When you're sad, you want to be closest to the stars."

He smiled a little as she sat next to him and joined in his stare over the mountaintops. "It… seems to help for some reason."

She was silent for a while. He wanted to ask her why she was here, but just as he opened his mouth, he heard her take in a breath. And she said his name with it, gently.

He raised his eyebrows at her, feeling slightly awkward. "Yeah?"

"You should know that you have every right to be messed up right now," she finished, peering sincerely into his eyes.

But he shook his head and lowered them. He idly traced a few fingertips over the top of the gem on the back of his hand. "...No I don't. I'm just making everyone else suffer."

"Listen, kid," she began with a droll smirk. "We grown-ups… we don't know everything either. Don't let us fool you. Really, we're just as lost." She paused, and her raspy voice softened. "As… lost as you feel today."

Well, Lloyd had never really thought about that before. At seventeen, adulthood for him still maintained a shining, glorious exterior, almost like a set of armor that he would someday wear that would someday make him a _man._

And he was missing several pieces. Most of them, actually. He didn't ever know if he'd find them; at the rate he was currently going, it sure didn't seem like it.

"Really? I guess I always thought there was something I wasn't understanding," he admitted. "Something I still needed to figure out."

"You're doing just fine," she assured. She brought her hand next to his, like she were absently comparing the colors of their individual Exspheres; he noticed that Ko'tenda's shade was similar to his mother's. He smiled a little wider.

"Sometimes you _have_ to be sad before you can find happiness," she continued. "You can't expect to be perfect and happy all the time, right?"

That _did_ make sense, although accepting it made something in his gut tense. "I… I guess not. But I know everyone else is suffering in their own way, too. I feel selfish for needing help."

"Don't," she said steadfastly, and with a proud square of her shoulders. "Everyone needs help sometimes. If they say they don't, they're lying."

He sighed. His hands were resting on his thighs, and they slowly eased into fists. "This is all just… a lot. Colette, and Kvar, and… Mom."

"You know…" Sara pursed her lips thoughtfully. "When I feel overwhelmed with stuff, something that helps me is to ask myself one question: what is my goal right now?"

"My… goal?" That was easy. Passion surged through his heart. He sat up straighter. "To stop the production of Exspheres. To make sure… no one else ends up like my mom. And to help Colette somehow." He frowned, suddenly feeling ashamed and stupid all over again. "But I don't know how."

"Doesn't matter."

Now, he looked up at her with wide eyes. Deep brown, a hue that matched hers almost perfectly. "What do you mean? It _has_ to matter."

"Just focus on what you're doing right now," she explained, accenting the last two words with a pointed finger into her open palm. "You're trying. Every day you wake up, you're reaching for that goal. _That's_ what matters - not your success."

He huffed a laugh. Was it really that easy? Sara always had a way of making the complicated simple, of untangling his jumbled thoughts into a straight, neat line. "...You think so?"

She grinned, a bright slash of white across her tan face. "Absolutely. Remember: you're _allowed_ to feel. You're allowed to be sad and angry. It's what makes you… _you_. Don't _ever_ be sorry for being yourself."

Lloyd nodded. He didn't speak for a few moments, but he kept nodding, letting her words bounce around in his head. He liked them there, and didn't want them to ever leave. "You're right. I can't do everything right all the time. But as long as I'm trying… that's what matters, yeah?"

"Exactly!" She leaned over and bumped her shoulder against his. Her smile faded, from a bright sun to a small, delicate flame. "I know we didn't meet under the best circumstances." She pressed the tip of one finger to her chin. "Well, actually, I literally can't think of a _worse_ way to have met someone, but… you've helped me out a whole lot, kid. I just hope I can sort of help you too."

"You already have," he said, meeting her eyes. He nodded again, and caught her grin. "Thanks, Sara."

She stood up, and languidly stretched her arms in the air. "Anytime. I'll give you some space now, okay?"

He wasn't ready to come back yet, anyway, so that was just as well. He waved goodbye to her as she traipsed back to solid ground, the sharp edges of her teal duster swaying behind her like a pair of wings.

* * *

When Sara returned to the inn, Raine and Genis were already asleep. Colette was lying down, obviously not sleeping, but at least resting as she'd been asked to do. Sheena, however, was sitting beside the fire and reading a book she must've found in the room somewhere, because Sara didn't remember her ever carrying one. Its front cover had a picture of some muscular, half-naked man kissing a beautiful woman beneath the moonlight - as soon as Sara opened the door, Sheena set it down with a slam and hid it behind her hip.

The corner that Kratos had occupied was now empty. Sara sighed, and glanced across the room at Sheena as she gestured to where the mercenary used to be. Sheena pointed up. It took a few seconds for her to figure it out, but Sara abruptly remembered the large balcony on the floor above them. And she turned and left again, without speaking.

* * *

Despite all of its ridiculous pagan rituals, Asgard was indeed a spectacular city.

Mountains rose in the distance, many of which contained hollowed-out homes for the city's residents. The windmill jutting up from one of the many hotels twirled lazily in the warm breeze that never seemed to go away.

High up on the roof of an inn just at the city's entrance, Kratos had a perfect view of the captivating scenery. He, however, did not have the luxury of noticing any of it.

The average observer would assume from the way he was casually sitting on the wooden balcony with his back against a wall that he was in a state of peace, perhaps even relaxation. It seemed impossible not to be, with the pleasant temperature and caressing wind that every so often swayed his thick, reddish-brown hair.

But his stare radiated tension, an internal discord that in all of his silence and restraint, he fought desperately to relieve. It was unusual for anything other than stark neutrality or, on good days, cynicism, to be on his face.

But, today...

 _I am not angry!_

He hissed a curse as the confused, slightly terrified expressions of his companions popped up in his memory. If anyone were to rate the mercenary's ability to remain calm under stress, it would be off the charts - today, however, had proven to be just a little too much.

Kvar's voice. He kept hearing Kvar's stupid, nasally, arrogant voice, like it was in his ear _right now_. Kratos' hands clenched around an invisible sword; the feel of his trusty blade impaling the Desian's chest sang once again through his fingertips. Satisfaction came first at the way Kvar's mouth fell open and filled with blood. Triumph was also in there somewhere, mixed with the strongest emotion of all: vengeance.

After vengeance, though? Nothing. Just cold, hard emptiness.

He remembered staring down at Kvar - no, the body, because that's all it had been anymore - and feeling for a suspended, indelible moment the sensation of being utterly _lost._ The act of taking Kvar's life felt mirrored inside his own chest. It wasn't what he'd thought.

Despite all of his knowledge and life experience, today… Kratos knew nothing.

He pressed one hand to his head like it would help hold his thoughts still. He couldn't get comfortable. The plush rug beneath him seemed to clump in all the wrong places, and he shifted unceasingly before grabbing a handful of the threads and slamming them into the wooden floor as if violence would make them behave.

Was he losing it? He was personifying _carpet_. Breaths sawed up and down his throat and out his nose in uneven heaves. Wild garnet eyes slammed shut and he shook his head.

 _I am not angry! I am not angry..._

Footsteps ascending the stairs behind him halted his thoughts, and he swore he could hear them all screech to a grinding halt. Annoyance flared; he'd told everyone else to leave him alone, hadn't he? Wait. Desperate gratitude blazed brighter, though. He wasn't doing himself any good by sitting here alone. He felt pretty confident that he was drowning, that stinging, bitter water was filling his lungs and pulling him under. Maybe someone else could act as his life raft.

He stared hard at the rectangle of darkness beneath the door beside him, willing feet to appear. They did. They were covered in black stockings with grey toes. They belonged to Sara.

Of course they did.

Thank _everything_.

She stepped through the door beside him, smiling and taking in a breath of the fresh air and closing her eyes to let the wind greet her with its warm embrace. That was so like her, wasn't it? Happiness first. Business second. Fingers of flamelike hair swayed over her eyes as she looked down at him and closed the door behind her.

Her freckled face hid absolutely none of her worry behind its soft smile. He stared up at her, using the kindness in her umber eyes as that life raft he'd needed, scrambling on top of it with ungraceful frenzy.

"Hey," she said.

"...Good evening, Sara," he managed, quite unsure of how.

"Do you mind if I sit with you for awhile?"

"No," he blurted with far too much enthusiasm. He forced a steadying breath into his lungs and cleared his throat. "In fact, that… would be most welcome."

She nodded, and plopped down onto the detestable carpet beside him, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on one of them. She eyed him curiously, and carefully, and with way too much empathy. He must've looked worse off than he thought.

"So, today sucked."

A smile shot across his face like a crack through glass - instant and unavoidable.

"Your eloquence astounds me," he said like it were a joke, which really it wasn't, at all.

A pink triangle slipped from her lips as she stuck her tongue out at him with a _nyeeeeeugh._ She turned her gaze to the sky and just missed the way his eyes glinted in the moonlight in silent laughter.

"Today, Lloyd and I… we both dealt with a lot of heavy stuff." Her head relaxed back against the wooden wall. A cloud passed over the moon, shrouding them both in darkness. He could see the pair of Exspheres on the backs of her hands as she gripped her knees. The stones glowed with a soft, thrumming light.

"We've talked it out, though," she continued. "I think… he's in a good place about everything now."

He nodded, which really didn't properly convey the sense of gratitude and admiration he felt. But it would have to do. "You two have grown close."

"He's an _amazing_ kid." Her voice and everything else about her always brightened when she spoke of Lloyd. "I care about him almost like he's mine, you know?"

Kratos swallowed hard and nodded once more. "I understand. That is admirable of you."

"Thanks." The air seemed to shift along with her eyes, which ended up meeting his and holding there steadily. "With what happened today… it even seemed like _you_ were affected."

He sighed. His long legs stretched out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other. "...You could say that, yes."

Her bare shoulder was right beside his, and it leaned over to make contact. He thought at first that it was a friendly bump like she'd given him and the others many times… but after a few seconds, she didn't move, and instead held there solidly like a curvy, tawny-skinned support beam.

"Are you okay, Kratos?"

Oh, what a question.  
Words raced through his mind, and he plucked them from his thoughts one by one until something meaningful formed. "Facing Kvar was… difficult for me as well. He has caused so much suffering for so many."

Sara breathed a cynical chuckle. One side of her mouth twinged into a hateful smirk. " _So_ much fact."

"To see all of those victims…" His eyes closed briefly as he took in a deliberate breath. "...and to see both you, and Lloyd suffer was… _unpleasant_."

Her shoulder pressed against his just a tiny bit more. She smiled warmly. "...You're a good guy, Kratos."

Many images flashed through his mind: gaping, bloody mouths, emaciated humans in dilapidated brown tunics, his bloodstained sword as it sliced cleanly through Kvar's chest.

"I… often need reminded of that," he said softly. "Thank you, Sara."

She shrugged with effortless nonchalance. "It's just the truth."

Silence stretched out between them in a thin, invisible line. The stars moved bit by bit, though neither of them did, as if they'd been nailed to the balcony wall.

"You did well today," the mercenary said finally. "Facing your demons. And… yourself."

She shook her head slowly. "I couldn't have done it without your help."

"I disagree," he countered quickly, and without a hint of doubt. He ventured a look at her face, but it was mostly hidden by orange bangs. "As always, you are stronger than you realize."

And there it was yet again, that simple, stern way that he always managed to boost her self-confidence. Kratos spoke in such a manner that it was almost impossible, or at the very least, rather unwise, to argue with him. But she hadn't ever wanted to.

"...Thanks, Kratos." Her head turned just slightly and she gave him a playful half-smile. "You're not bad either."

 _Not bad._

He _humphed_ a laugh. He hated that phrase, which is why it was her favorite.

"And thanks for… oh, hell, I don't know. Everything else you've ever done for me, today and otherwise." Her gaze returned to the stars, and then to her hands, which she had stretched out in front of her, palm-down. As she continued, her voice seemed to strip itself raw, becoming bare, honest and vulnerable. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye. But, even on my worst days, you just… you never let me down."

Strange, foreign warmth pooled in the pit of his stomach. Okay, well, it wasn't _entirely_ foreign. Trickles of it had been sneaking there for some time, and it seemed as if enough had collected to finally melt all the cold spots he could never reach.

"…I am grateful for you, as well," he said, though it came out as more of a rumble than a string of words. "Despite our differences. And many times… because of them."

She laughed under her breath. "It's good to hear you say that, you know. You're kind of difficult to read sometimes." Then, after a few seconds of thought: "Okay… _all_ the time."

Kratos shifted a bit, though it wasn't from discomfort or unease. He wanted to be closer to her. He wanted-

Well, he couldn't really believe what he wanted. He didn't _want_ to want it. Wait, that wasn't what he wanted either… _What?_

He sighed. She was still looking down at her hands when he reached out and took one. Her frame stiffened, and her eyes followed his movements magnetically as he set both of their hands in his lap. His fingertips brushed delicate strokes along her palm, like it were some sort of treasure he couldn't fight the urge to covet.

Gods, her skin was so soft...

"I will admit your friendship was unwelcome at first," Kratos began quietly. Those piercing garnet eyes were locked onto her hand still. He splayed her rough fingers out on top of his, as if comparing their length. "I purposefully do not make a habit of growing close to others. I have a… rather complicated life, and it is just easier that way."

Words were coming out of his mouth but felt completely foreign to him, as if someone else were directing his speech. He idly realized it was because he never thought he'd say them again.

"But… it seems I couldn't help making an exception for you, Sara."

The air seemed to still as soon as the words were out, as if time were slowing.

Sara sat beside him silently. Except for the languid strokes of his fingertips along her hand, he didn't move. He studied her profile - the freckles dotting her cheeks, the way her fiery hair swayed with the wind, her long, charcoal eyelashes, the first few lines of age at the corners of her eyes. She was a foreign, wild sense of beautiful that he hadn't quite figured out, but appreciated just the same.

"My life isn't exactly simple either," she managed. Her voice was like gravel and she hoped it was still human enough that he could understand, although it seemed a crapshoot. "But you know that. And you've never judged me. Not once."

His fingers paused in their massage of her hand. She almost whimpered, but managed to cover it in an awkward cough.

"I have no room to judge anyone," he said darkly.

That bare shoulder sitting against his this whole time gave him one quick shove. It served its purpose, because now instead of looking into the past, his gaze settled on her face and the little smile she'd managed to place between crimson cheeks.

"I met you on the worst day of my life, Kratos. Before you even knew my name, you were there for me." These were words, right? And they made sense? She hoped so, because there was no stopping them now. "Since then, you've always been there. And… and I don't even have to ask. You always know. Because that's just the kind of man you are. You're a rare breed."

Lending her his sword to give her dragons a merciful death. When he carried her to safety from the Desians. Their conversation on the ship from Izoold. The night in Palmacosta that they spent together over dinner. His encouragement and kindness in helping her with her nightmares. The care and patience he showed in teaching her fire magic. When he'd given her that dragonscale amulet. Every time he saved her life in battle…

There was not _one_ thing about him that she didn't admire or appreciate.

The hesitance had vanished from her voice. It was focused now, and confident, because she knew with complete clarity exactly what she wanted, and he was sitting right beside her, right now, holding her hand.

"Every day since then has had new meaning to me. Every hour, every minute, every _second…"_

He mumbled her name. His fingers curled, lacing with hers, bracing for impact.

"I don't want to waste any more time-"

Kratos dropped her hand and turned towards her. His heavy-lidded eyes were looking everywhere but her face, as if eye contact were taboo and forbidden. His powerful form hulked over her, throwing her in shadow, overwhelming her sight with the strong line of his shoulders and rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. The auburn hair hanging before his eyes added to the obscurity of his gaze, and even though Sara couldn't see where he was staring, she _felt_ it, her skin heating up suddenly beneath his scrutiny. The warm breeze that had been so pleasant before now felt like the devil's own breath.

He hovered there, silently. It drove her slightly crazy that she couldn't see his eyes. His shoulder was still touching hers, and he had one hand planted on the stupid carpet just beside her leg, close enough that his fingertips rested against her bare, inviting skin. She blinked and swallowed hard; it occurred to her absently that she was probably sweating. She shook her head a bit to draw her bangs stealthily over her forehead.

Kratos couldn't think. He was one-half of a magnet - Sara was the other, only he was facing the wrong way and couldn't move any closer. Impossibly, she repelled him - that shadowed curve of her neck, and the shift of her chest, that insignificant, alluring way she bit her bottom lip - and he stopped just short of his destination, blocked by an invisible, immovable wall.

He watched her face fall, her eyes widen and her mouth drop open in awkwardness and discomfort. Watched the way her shoulders slumped. Felt against his chest the confused exhale that left her flushed, waiting lips. It hurt. It hurt because he knew that _she_ hurt, and that it was entirely his fault, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

He needed to say something. She was just about to, and he knew that he couldn't let her. So he straightened his neck. He pulled back his shoulders. With tiny, excruciating movements, he ran the pad of his thumb along the base of his left ring finger, where once had existed a plain, indelible silver band, and he said simply: "I can't."

She said nothing. She watched him, breathless and stunned and uncommonly speechless. But above all, and most importantly - she listened.

"Not right now," he continued, a bitter, defeated murmur that should've been passionate whispers against her neck. "Not tonight. I can't."

She still didn't speak. It was probably a compassionate effort, to allow his thoughts to finish themselves fully - he tried to focus on that, on the positives, on the blessings - but they drove him crazy, too.

"I'm sorry," he admitted, because it was the truth, and all he could think of to say - both to her, and to _her._

Slowly, bit by bit, crawling across her speckled cheeks, Sara smiled. She _smiled._ And he couldn't think of anything more out of place and inappropriate for her to do right now. She should curse him, or flee in a flustered rage and vow her permanent disinterest.

But instead she stayed. And she just kept smiling.

"It's okay, Kratos," she said, with a diaphanous half-laugh that he saw through in an instant. It didn't change his gratitude for her trying in the first place. Not one bit.

"It's okay. You don't have to explain," she continued gently.

But he did. He owed Sara that much. Sara, who fought for him and against him in equal measures. Sara, who made the dead parts of him feel alive when he never again thought they could.

Kratos leaned back a little. His fingers against her skin retreated and formed a shivering fist. Words poured from his throat, vomitous, unstoppable:

"It was Kvar, Sara. It was Kvar, that turned her into-"

"...Oh, gods, Kratos." He had very sharp hearing. He heard the breath lurch to a halt in her throat. He heard her heart skip a beat. "Then, today, when you - that was for _her…_ Oh, shit, I'm so sorry."

"Please don't be," he begged, and felt that he would simply implode and cease to exist if she did otherwise. " _Please_ don't be, Sara." Because _none_ of it was her fault, and she was the _only_ thing keeping him sane right now, and he couldn't ever properly describe the extent of his gratitude for that.

The truth slumped between them and landed with a sickening thud. She didn't look at him anymore. She looked everywhere else. He could see the struggle on her face as she fought to find words. He wanted to do the same, to speak, but found it equally as impossible.

Her knees drew further into her chest. She cleared her throat. "...Well, then." And she held up one hand towards him, palm out, fingers straight and pressed together. The same one he'd been caressing before. Kratos reflexively and completely unintentionally backed up. He stared at her hand in wonderment.

"Your wife, and my sister, _and_ Lloyd's mom," she muttered, and sniffled once. "Kvar took people from all three of us. High five for teamwork."

His throat worked. He shook his bangs from his face. Absently, he stared down at his own empty palm.

"Come on," she urged, with a shattered, gorgeous half-smile. "Don't leave me hanging."

Kratos slowly raised one hand, looking over the creases of his palm, the worn, sky-blue fabric of his gloves. All of that crushing tension began to ease. He allowed his gaze to flick to Sara's face. He melted instantly - just as he had so many times before - because she was still smiling. Tears danced at the edges of her chocolate eyes, but she was _still smiling_.

He shoved his arm forward. His palm slapped against hers. Rather ungracefully, and with a complete lack of restraint, he snorted a laugh.

"There you go," she beamed. She reached back and pressed her hands against the wooden wall, helping her stand. He stayed sitting.

Without thinking, he said her name. And it was so much more than a word. She came closer; his fingers curled into the carpet, and his chest tightened. His garnet eyes raised to hers as each of her deadly hands tenderly cradled his face. He panicked, his heart fluttering, that invisible ring scalding into his flesh-

And Kratos breathed out, reverently, as her lips pressed against his forehead. Her fingertips curled, easing perfectly into the space just before his ears and along his jaw. Her thumbs whispered along the corners of his eyes.

She held there forever. He'd faced a million enemies that could tear her to pieces, but he was powerless to move away. Not that he wanted to.

"Goodnight, Kratos," she said against his hair. And she stood, her stockinged feet silent against the worn wooden floorboards. She opened the door she'd come from, and disappeared beyond it without another word.

He watched the door close. His head thunked back against the wall as he studied the stars.

She listened. Her sudden absence was palpable, void-like and frigid.

And it just made him want her more.


	25. Tempus (Time)

Chapter Twenty-Five

 _Tempus_

* * *

Raine didn't know exactly why she was up this early. Her head felt a little heavy, and not nearly as sharp as she'd wished. Almost like she'd been hungover - although The Professor was _far_ beyond the petty temptations of alcohol, and as a full-grown woman, would _never_ partake once again. She and her brother had risen with the sun; Colette remained at rest in her bed. Lloyd was stark asleep, as was Sheena, and Kratos appeared as still and at peace at the former in his hidden, corner bed. Sara was nowhere to be found, but somehow the eldest Sage found that unsurprising, and thought little of it. Raine communicated with her younger brother through gestures alone, a familiar signal to remind him to gather his pack, and comb his hair, and wash his teeth without ever speaking.

The Sages arrived downstairs shortly, accepting their usual task at grabbing a breakfast table for their other companions. Despite the journey they had all fought for thus far, it still seemed that each member of the Chosen's group maintained a very distinct lifestyle - a lifetime's worth of habits could not be undone for one single purpose.

Genis was spreading a dark currant jelly onto a piece of toast. The toast itself was dry, and crumbly, but he seemed too enthralled in the flavor of the jelly to notice. He smiled up at his sister with a full mouth. "Thish is good."

Raine started to smile. There were few things in life that made her do so - but seeing her younger brother's contented grin was one of them. The inn's dining room had several glass pane windows, although these were rather small, and built thickly to combat Asgard's offensive wind. Through them, and from the corner of her indigo eyes, she spotted a rushing group of humans, weapons drawn, faces grim, footsteps jarring the black coffee in her mug.

Genis set down his toast and stood. He immediately met his sister's eyes. "Should we-"

"Now."

And they left their breakfast untouched to venture outside. The moaning breeze met them first, a familiar, hollow howl. Raine strode forward, unperturbed, but kept her stride at half its normal length so Genis could keep up. They paused just before the city's entrance. Their uneven footfalls became drowned out by a hushed, fervent chant: "Monster. Get the monster. _Monster-"_

Genis saw her first. He would've recognized those lanky arms, and that mortified skin, and those dead, unseeing eyes anywhere - although the tattered white skirt and seafoam green top sealed the deal.

His kendama flew into his hand, although he had no idea what to do with it. He kept trying to speak through a dense, choked throat. "It's… It's-"

"Clara," his sister finished, much to his relief. Because she hadn't seen Marble; she hadn't seen what he had, back in Iselia, but she'd recognized this abomination just the same. Somehow, what remained of Governer-General Dorr's wife had meandered all the way to Asgard; it looked like there had been many obstacles on the way, because the clothes that were already barely hanging on to her monstrous frame were even more tattered and smudged with dirt and streaks of oily blood.

One of the villagers fashioned himself a monster-slaying hero. He was tall and bulky, and had short, buzzed hair - Genis recognized him instantly as the man who had challenged Kratos earlier in their journey. Arnie, or Arnold, or - no, Arno. Yeah, that was it. _Arno_ , the imbecile, who couldn't take no for an answer. He led the charge with his broadsword, his mannequin face beaming at the chance for a challenge, his great hairy arms bunched in decisive clumps-

" _Ground Dasher,"_ Genis shouted, and the ball of his kendama sailed straight into the air before slamming into the earth. He honestly didn't know this spell - the only earth-type magic he'd known thus far was a medium-level spell that had taken out the Seal of Wind's guardian and a few monsters along their way. But this spell flew from his fingertips, an instant, mana-guided rush of knowledge. The ground beneath all of those charging feet shook violently, and the crowd clamored their surprise and discontent as they all ended up on either their rumps or backs, wondering where the sudden earthquake had come from.

Clara had been backed into a corner just beside Asgard's front gates. She was crouched low, her giant head thrashing back and forth, her clawed fingers bunching - but she straightened now, and seemed to understand that this was her opportunity to escape. She turned around, her thunderous feet scraping into the dirt, and shambled into the distance, moaning a disquieting goodbye.

"I can't believe she made it this far," Raine muttered, with a mollified sigh.

Genis tucked his kendama back into his waistband. "There's got to be some way we can help her." He peered up at his sister with earnest, ice-blue eyes. "We were lucky this time. We won't always be around to stop everyone."

Raine held one hand pensively to her chin. She began heading back towards the inn, with Genis beside her. "I have heard of a legendary healing technique. It is said to be written in a book by one of the great healers of old. Perhaps… that could cure her somehow."

Genis started to smile. "Really? Where's the book?"

"Supposedly there is a library in the Tower of Mana. It should be among the books located there."

"Well that's where we're headed next anyway, yeah?" His smile stretched into a hopeful grin. "Let's find it, Sis."

Raine frowned, her thin shoulders slumping just slightly under an invisible weight. "Even if we do, there is no guarantee I would be able to use the technique."

"Of _course_ you can," Genis scoffed, pushing open the inn's front door, holding it there for her. "You're the best healer in Sylvarant."

He said that so factually, so casually. As if he'd said the sky was blue. It made her pause for just a moment in the doorway. She stared at her brother, her eyes a bit wide. He kept grinning. Genis was not an adult yet, but she knew he was no longer a small child, either, and perhaps she'd forgotten what it was like to hear reminders of his unconditional faith. With age came independence, and he voiced these reminders far less than he had when he was younger, when he counted on her for even the smallest things.

After a few moments, she followed him inside. She smiled again, for the second time this morning - an unheard-of feat. She eased one hand into his wild hair.

"Thank you, Genis."

"Duh, Sis."

* * *

Sheena didn't exactly consider herself _skinny._ But she definitely wasn't overweight, and she was quick, and didn't tire easily - all of these things were maintained consciously and on a daily basis, through exercise, meditation and diet. None of it ever came easy to her, really, and she felt like she had to keep constant vigilance to keep up both her figure and her skills.

Which was why her mouth hung open as she gaped at the massive plates (yes, two) of food Sara sat down on the breakfast table. Sheena's hazel eyes darted from the plates to the orange-haired woman's face and back again. Sara wasn't _skinny_ either, but she definitely looked healthy. Her body had a strange mixture of sharp lines and curves that Sheena had never really seen on a woman before. Sara was clearly older than her, but it couldn't have been by much, and she was about five inches taller… was _that_ the secret? Or maybe she just ate one giant meal a day (or a week, honestly), kind of like a snake-

"Can I help you?" Sara mumbled around a mouthful of sausage.

Sheena sat back and dropped her gaze to her own plate, on which rested a few pieces of fruit and some type of nut granola she had yet to pour milk on. "Uh, heh. Just wondering how you eat like that and don't gain weight."

"Pfffffft," Sara laughed, swiftly wiping her grinning mouth with her napkin. "Oh, I gain weight, don't you worry. And everyplace _other_ than where I'd like, stupidly," she added, glaring down at her chest. "Funny how that works, am I right-"

Sheena cleared her throat and quietly began drawing the lapels of her robe together.

Sara frowned. "Oh, you wouldn't know about that, would you." Her voice lowered to a grumble. "Lucky little ninja…"

"What was that?"

"Anyway," Sara continued deliberately, waving a dismissive hand. "I burn it all off just as quick."

Sheena straightened in her seat, and absently scratched at the back of her jet-black head with one hand. She leaned a little closer to Sara, as if about to ask something taboo, or forbidden: "How… how do you burn it off?"

"Easy," Sara chirped, readying another forkful of potatoes and ham. "I lift heavy things until I can't lift them anymore."

Sheena blinked. "What? That's it?"

"Yep." Sara took another bite, and began using her fork to point at nonexistent objects as she named them. "It's like, 'hey, that rock looks heavy. I should lift it.' 'Oh, I have some extra shit in my pack today. I'll lift that.' And then I just do that until I can't move." She shrugged. "Works pretty well, I think."

Sheena's eyes were wide with both awe and morbid curiosity. "Who taught you to do that?"

"Dragons," Sara offered factually. Noting the other woman's confused expression, Sara swallowed and shook her head quickly. "Oh, that's right. You're new. From age ten on, I was raised by dragons."

Now, Sheena's eyes narrowed as her head tilted to one side. "...That explains a lot, actually."

"Hmm?"

"Nothing. Anyway, that's what dragons do?"

Sara nodded. "It's how they gain strength in their wings and chest, and prepare to carry loads or multiple riders." Her voice took on a rare scholastic edge, almost as if she were trying to imitate The Professor. It was clear that this subject was something she knew very well. "As dragons mature, they practice flights while holding objects of increasing heaviness. They do this for years, until they can carry up to three or four times their own body weight."

Sheena finally added milk to her granola and stirred it. "Lifting heavy things, huh?"

"Great for anger issues, too," Sara tacked on cheerfully in between bites. She gave Sheena a mischievous smirk. "If you're pissed off at someone, just pretend they're the rock."

* * *

As usual, Lloyd woke up last. By the time he'd made his way out regretfully from beneath his covers, almost everyone had relocated downstairs. _Almost._ Lloyd paused on the edge of his mattress, his hands gripping the seams tightly, because the only one left in this suddenly stuffy room was Kratos, and that was just… weird.

Lloyd gratefully inhaled a long breath and slowly stood up. The mercenary was sitting on a small wooden stool, facing away from him. Kratos had his sword resting on a wooden table in the corner, the hilt dangling off the edge, and he looked to be cleaning the steel blade with a worn cloth. His broad, caped shoulders kept bunching and straightening in rhythmic motions that were accompanied by the sound of smooth scrapes.

Lloyd took a careful step forward. The floorboards creaked beneath his boots, and he grimaced. Not that he minded talking to Kratos, but the act itself was just _exhausting_ , and he really didn't want to start his day with such a task. He wanted food, and sunshine, and maybe some of that coffee he'd realized could be so wonderful. So he kept creaking towards the door, timidly, one step at a time, until his hand was resting on the handle-

"Lloyd," came the mercenary's voice.

Lloyd flinched. He dropped his hand from the door. "Uh. Y-yeah?"

Kratos barely turned his head towards the boy. But it was enough for one of those cinnamon eyes to flash in the dim light. "You have gotten better with your swords."

At this, Lloyd whipped around, completely bewildered. Memories of their battle with Kvar yesterday pierced through his thoughts. His motivation had peaked, and he doubted there'd be another time where he would feel such a sense of purpose, but… maybe he had, in fact, improved noticeably. Then he realized he was kind of slouching, so he stood up tall and proud. "Really?"

Kratos' hands no longer swiped along his blade. He settled them onto his lap and turned just slightly, facing the teen with a rigid, calculating glare. "Yes. But if you lack clarity of thought, you wil not be able to unleash your real strength."

Lloyd nodded. He had no reason to argue, nor a foundation to do so. Yesterday, literally all of his actions had been urged on by his craving for vengeance - and while it had worked, that was not exactly something he wanted to always rely on. "...Yeah. You're right. Why do I always get mad so quickly?"

The stool Kratos had been sitting on now scraped backwards. Whatever he'd been doing to his sword seemed to pass his test, because he now stood and returned it to the scabbard at his left hip. Lloyd thought the way he was standing was a bit off, a bit crooked - but he didn't have time to think on it any longer, because Kratos immediately suggested: "Let us train."

After the day he'd had yesterday, and the flickering energy that surged through both of his clenched fists, Lloyd wholeheartedly agreed. In fact, he started to smile. He nodded, a determined downward twitch of his chin. The mercenary didn't attempt to recreate this, but instead just lead the way out the door with impossibly silent steps of his grey and white boots.

They made their way downstairs, and out of the inn entirely. Colette had joined the Professor, Sheena, Sara and Genis at their breakfast table, and Lloyd paused for just a moment to wave a slight 'hello' at the blonde girl - but the promise of his hands aching, and his arms tensing, and his shoulders failing beneath sweet, sure strikes kept him moving. Lloyd noticed that Kratos paused, too, just barely - really, it was nothing more than a falter in his sure steps - but Lloyd knew he'd been looking at the same table, only at a different person just beside the Chosen, with fiery hair and two empty plates.

They reached a small clearing near the city's entrance. Lloyd's hair kept whipping into his eyes due to the wind, so he kept twitching his head to one side to clear his vision; he noticed that Kratos' hair was _always_ in his eyes, and wondered why this didn't bother the older man, or force him to make any similar corrective action.

"When you are emotional," Kratos was saying as he drew his sword once more. "Take a deep breath and try pausing for a moment." He extended his right arm, pointing the blade directly at Lloyd. "It will suppress your impulses."

Lloyd readied his own blades. "All right." He didn't feel terribly emotional at the moment - rather, he was actually in a really good mood, for the first time in days. But he took the mercenary's advice and inhaled a deep breath anyway, only to find that it settled his gleaming happiness into steady contentment. Like tempering steel.

"By the way," Lloyd continued, still smiling a little. "You're always calm and collected. How do you do it?"

"...I'm older than you," Kratos offered, after a few seconds. "Time makes that difference."

Lloyd huffed a sardonic laugh. "But even when I get to be your age, I don't think I'll be as calm as you."

Now, Kratos made a face that Lloyd was sure he'd never seen before. It wasn't quite a frown, but it looked similar, and was tinged with just a hint of amusement.

"Ah, I'm… not sure about that," Kratos murmured. He stepped forward, his boot crunching into the dry earth. "At any rate: come."

* * *

There was no point to stopping at Luin any longer, so the Chosen's group took a straight path north, towards the Tower of Mana. Not much stood between there and Asgard, mostly vast plains of grass and a few thickets of brittle forests - but in the middle of one of these was Lake Umacy, a picturesque body of crystal-clear water fed by a natural underground spring.

Colette reached it first, her thin legs making a dangerous, uncoordinated sprint that everyone half-expected to end in a tumble. She stayed vertical though, and paused at the edge of the water with her hands held beneath her chin and a beaming grin on her pale face.

"Look at the water," she breathed. "It's just like glass."

Beside her, Lloyd smiled too. Her appreciation for the seemingly mundane never failed to make his chest sort of tight in the best way. It looked like a few trees had collapsed into the lakebed recently; giant trunks and branches stuck out of the lake's surface, haphazardly strewn across one another. There was a peculiar shape beneath a few of them, almost like a shifting, shimmering bubble of air that had somehow become caught against the lake's foundation. It was too far away for him to see clearly, but there appeared to be something resting within the pocket of air, with long legs and a furry mane.

"Do you see that?" he asked, pointing to it. "It looks like… there's something trapped under there."

Colette narrowed ocean-blue eyes. A moment later, they flew open wide. "I… I don't believe it."

"Why?" Lloyd asked urgently, brimming with furious curiosity. "What do you see?"

The Chosen held her breath. "It's a Unicorn."

"No _way,_ " Lloyd and Genis exclaimed simultaneously, tiptoeing closer to the water's edge for a better look. And sure enough, lying on its side, curled into a protective ball, a pearly-white Unicorn rested at the lake's bottom in the middle of that bubble of air. Its eyes were closed, shielded in a thick brim of charcoal lashes, and it made no attempt to move, apparently either unconscious or simply asleep. Both boys knew relatively little about the legendary beast - only that it was extremely rare, to the point of myth, since not many people believed in the Unicorn's existence whatsoever. Sylvarant had its share of creatures of lore; among these, the Unicorn had always stood out as the pinnacle of discovery, something many people waited their entire lives to see.

Sara was one of these people.

She strode towards the water carefully, as if unsure of her footing. Her arms hung limp at her sides, and her eyes were giant, a fervent, disbelieving brown.

"...Really?"

None of the others would really understand why she acted like this, but it didn't matter. Sara was young again - seven years old, and tucked snugly into her tiny, lumpy bed while her sister read to her a story (not just _any_ story, but her _favorite,_ of course, and for the thousandth time) about a Unicorn who brought light to mankind's darkness.

Sara closed her eyes. She could still hear a gentle voice, feel the mattress under her back, the thick blankets curled beneath her chin. And that smell, sweet, perfect, like lavender and roses, and tendrils of chestnut hair that tickled her face during each goodnight kiss on her cheek…

"I don't believe it," Sara managed. And she was thankful that the others seemed too enthralled with their discovery to notice the unstoppable tears she quickly whisked away with the edge of one finger.

She turned around, away from the water. And whether by chance or instinct, the first thing she looked at was Kratos, who returned her astonished stare with one of wintry repression.

"Is that real?" Sara asked. Mostly to him, because he was the only one so far who had been the firm guidepost between her head and reality, what she perceived versus what was true.

The mercenary said nothing. His arctic expression remained firmly in place. He met her eyes for a split second, but then looked away as if she hadn't spoken.

"I wonder if we can make contact with it," Raine wondered aloud.

"Raine." Genis shifted his feet. "Do you think that you could…"

"Yes," she finished for him. "Exactly. If we have the Unicorn horn, we may be able to help both Colette and Clara."

"Clara," Lloyd repeated instantly, half in question, half in confirmation.

Genis slowly nodded. "We… saw her this morning. She made it all the way to Asgard." And his feet shifted again, with a feeble kick at a stick on the ground. "I kind of saved her from being attacked. But… she ran away, before we could stop her."

Lloyd's chest inflated with purpose. "So she's still alive. Do you really think…" He looked at the Chosen, and her delicate face shielded with strands of platinum hair. And something white-hot pierced through his ribs, a spire of hope. "Could it help Colette, too?"

"It is possible," Kratos said, glancing at the teen briefly. "It is said that healing artes developed from studying the Unicorn's horn."

"Then we've got to find a way to get to the Unicorn," Lloyd announced without hesitation.

Genis glanced inquisitively at the serene water. "But how can we get over there?"

Lloyd at once remembered his first swimming lesson as a young child - he couldn't have been much older than six. Dirk had held the young Lloyd up beneath his arms, and Lloyd recalled the Dwarf grinning proudly and laughing that gut-shaking, slightly terrifying chortle as he'd said: ' _Sink or swim, lad!'_

Well, Lloyd had figured out how to swim _real_ quick. So he turned his head towards the water again, and said without a doubt: "Can't we just swim to it?"

And Genis sighed, recognizing that hopeful look all too well. "You won't be able to hold your breath that long."

Lloyd's hungry lungs wanted to disagree. He shot his best friend a glare. "Dammit. Isn't there anything we can do?"

Silence reigned for a little while. And it made Sheena's hands wring behind her back, and her jaw clench. She shouldn't say anything, just like she shouldn't be here at all, but… she _wanted_ to, so that had to count for something, right?

Her heart had always had more courage than her tongue. This was no exception.

"There is a way," she ground out.

Though it shouldn't have surprised her, six pairs of eyes now locked themselves onto her withering frame. Sheena pressed her lips together and looked off to the side, unable to face their inquisitive faces. Dammit, she shouldn't have spoken at all - she was already in the deepest of trouble for failing her mission, so why did-

" _What?"_ Raine demanded.

Sheena tried to stand tall beneath the invisible load crushing her shoulders.

"We could summon Undine, who exists in this world, to control the water's mana."

"Undine," Lloyd began thoughtfully, and with an excited twinge of his mouth. "You mean the Summon Spirit?"

Genis shook his head. "We don't have anyone who can call the Summon Spirits."

"I haven't formed a pact yet," Sheena went on quietly. "But if I can form the pact… then I can summon."

Colette's smile widened. "Oh, so, Sheena's a summoner!"

"I'm a _guardian user,"_ Sheena corrected, fidgeting with the bow sashed around her waist. "But I can summon, too."

Raine kept giving her that trademark inquisitive glare. "I'd heard that the art of summoning was lost a very long time ago."

That fidgeting stopped abruptly. "Well, it still exists. Anyway, if you're not interested, I'm not going to force you."

Lloyd stepped towards her. "No, we need the Unicorn horn. Please do it, Sheena."

She looked over at him, finally. His russet eyes shone with hope, and his face was a shade of rarely-seen tactful sincerity. And the sun seemed to hit his features in just the right way, creating attractive shadows across his skin and what she could see of his neck. Speaking of his neck, it was mostly covered in a tall red collar - and the color made her abruptly look away, down at her restless hands, because she knew that her face had begun to match it perfectly.

"A-alright," she murmured. She inhaled a deliberate breath. "Then, let's go to the Seal of Water. Undine should be at the seal."

"The Thoda Geyser, right?" Genis affirmed, exchanging excited glances with Lloyd. "Let's go!"

"Yeah!" Colette agreed emphatically.

Raine held up one hand. "Everyone, wait." She gestured out over the lake, to the northern distance. "We are nearly to the Tower of Mana. It would be foolish to stray from our path now."

Colette's smile tumbled from her face. She nodded. "You're right, Professor. Let's release the last seal first."

Sara frowned. "Are you sure, Colette? We don't know what's going to happen to you this time…"

"I'll be fine," the Chosen assured earnestly. "It's okay."

Somehow, as time went on, those two words became easier to say - although they became increasingly less true. No one else had to know that, though, which is why Colette was the first one to leave.

Sara was last. She seemed reluctant to let go of the sight of the Unicorn, and even as she finally strode onward, she stared back at it over one shoulder until the brush clogged her vision.

Kratos was waiting for her. The way the sun hit the surrounding trees threw him into shadow, so that only the very tip of his sword's hilt met the light. She paused before him, just briefly; as soon as she met his eyes, he turned around and kept walking, without speaking.

Sara stared at his back, and those stiff shoulders, and the pointed tips of that cloak. She opened her mouth to speak but slammed it closed a second later, and instead walked on in silence.

* * *

A/N: AHHHH hello! The next few chapters are going to get CRAZY. Sara is going to go back to Kozei to face her past, and her many demons. And Kratos will finally decide how to handle his feelings for her... his inevitable betrayal is approaching, so how the hell will he handle something like this? I CAN'T WAIT TO WRITE IT. AGHHHGHGHHH

Thanks for reading and please drop me a review! It means a whooooooole lot to me. Even if it's just like, "Hey I read ur shit kthx." That would be plenty. You're awesome!


	26. Decretum (Decision)

Thank you so much for reading!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six

 _Decretum_

* * *

"It's locked," Raine announced flatly.

She tugged once more on the massive door handle for good measure. It didn't budge in the slightest. The Tower's face loomed above them, several hundred feet tall, with four pointed parapets that stretched towards the overcast sky.

Colette held a few fingers worriedly to her chin. "Ah, I guess that makes sense. The Tower of Mana used to be used as a temple to offer prayers to the Tower of Salvation, but… it was closed a long time ago since monsters started appearing inside."

Genis gave the Chosen a hopeless frown. "And you didn't think to mention this before?"

"I just forgot, I guess." A waifish shrug, and an embarrassed blush. "Oops. Hehe."

The Professor continued on as if neither of them had spoken. Her eyes were alight and wide with purpose. She kept tapping at various points on the massive front door, as if listening for some sort of clue. "I simply _must_ go inside," she stated factually, with zero room for argument.

Sara backed up a few steps, behind Lloyd, and hunched down so that her eyes were just barely looking over his shoulder. "She's doing the thing again, isn't she?"

But Lloyd just sighed. "Yep. That's our Professor."

Colette suddenly gasped. "Oh, wait. According to the Book of Regeneration, it's very likely that this is a seal."

Genis frowned harder. "But there's no oracle stone out here."

"Couldn't we find a way to get past the locks?" Sheena suggested. "I mean, it's just a hunk of metal, right?"

"They are well-made," Kratos said, stepping closer to the door with thinned cinnamon eyes. "The mechanisms seem complex, and likely only to release if-"

Sara shot one hand into the air. "I got this." And she sashayed past the mercenary, smirking confidently, and cracking her knuckles in a series of disturbingly loud popping noises. Kratos stared after her, expressionless and silent, before turning his gaze from her entirely.

Genis crossed his arms and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh, really? Just how do you plan on unlocking the door, huh?"

"It's like Sheena said…" Sara paused just in front of the door, her self-assured smile becoming tainted with taciturn sincerity now that no one could see her face. "It's just a hunk of metal. And metal… melts."

Sheena held up one hesitant finger. "Uh, that's not exactly what I meant…"

"This looks like stainless steel," Raine began, dragging a few fingertips down one of the geometric accents inlaid into the door's surface. "And stainless steel's melting point is over twenty-five hundred degrees Fahrenheit."

Sara sent her a grim sideways glance. "So you should probably back up."

"But…" Raine's face fell in sudden realization. "That means you'll be destroying this priceless-"

" _Holy shit_ , do you want inside or not?"

It looked like the Professor waged a swift internal battle, because an array of expressions flew across her graceful face before settling on a dejected, though resolute acceptance. The promise of more exploration allowed her to nod, and she did as Sara suggested.

Sara set her jaw. She extended both of her hands and pressed her palms flush against the midseam of the door, at the heart of its interconnected locks. Her shoulders squared as she took in a vast, endless breath. And she closed her eyes, exhaling with slow purpose, causing the gems on the back of each hand to burst with vibrant light. Her hair ruffled in a nonexistent breeze as her palms screamed with blistering heat, like she'd just stuck them into the heart of a pulsing volcano; smoke and steam hissed into the air, and glowing drops of metal began trickling down the door and collecting into a gleaming puddle at her feet.

Even from several dozen feet away, Lloyd almost had to shield his face from the heat; he could barely make out Sara's frame in the shimmering, twisting air. How exactly she could stand it was beyond him; by all rights, she should've been reduced to a pile of ashes by now, but she stood firm and kept easing her hands forward, through the smoldering steel, like a sculptor's knife intently through clay.

There was a sharp screeching sound, the rending of metal - and the doors swept open, each one with a hole carved halfway through its middle. Sara stumbled backwards, holding her hands out to her sides, careful not to touch either her own clothes or anything else. She was breathing hard, and her steps were strange and stilted as she turned around to face them. Lloyd's breath caught at her expression - frantic insecurity had replaced aloof surety. For whatever reason she was looking straight at him, and he walked forward towards her unsure voice, despite his searing face.

"Water. _Please-_ "

The others looked confused, but he didn't hesitate. In his pack rested a large canteen; he drew it out quickly and tore off its cap. Lloyd darted forward and immediately dumped its entire contents into her offered palms. She hissed a thankful curse as steam squelched into the air between them - but then her fingers curled, and her hands settled once again at her hips.

"They help me," she began, with a long, alleviated exhale, "Tarja, and Ko. But I'm still human. I can control their fire, but… sometimes, it _hurts_." She smiled, though it was sort of forced and half a wince. "Thanks, kid."

He nodded. And he tried to return her smile, but it couldn't have looked convincing. Really, he had like a thousand questions now - did it hurt _every_ time she used her fire? Was she okay with that? And even if she was, how could he ask her to keep fighting for them if it caused her pain every time?

Lloyd's stomach clenched. His empty canteen lowered to his side. But she had already started to make her way through the doorway, into the darkness beyond, using one of her hands as a guiding flashlight. He stared hard at the flickering flames, his head buzzing with unspoken words.

The room beyond was cavernous and dimly-lit by few and far between windows. But it was enough - Raine dashed instantly towards the western walls, where a two-story wooden wall of bookshelves stood, flanked on either side by a pair of mighty white stone pillars.

"Just think of all the knowledge contained here," Raine breathed, her indigo eyes flashing with glorious voracity. "I simply must find Boltzman's book."

Genis trotted up beside her. "Do you know what it looks like?"

"Not exactly. There are only vague descriptions."

Sheena gaped at The Professor. "So how are we supposed to find it?"

Colette picked this moment to walk forward. She had begun to reach out a hand and make a suggestion of her own - but she stumbled, at last, and ended up banging her shoulder into the bookshelf. Which in turn caused a book avalanche as dozens of tomes thudded into a pile onto the slick tile floor. Lloyd dove to her side, but she managed to remain standing and met his concerned frown with a sheepish smile. "Hehe, sorry…"

"No, look." Dust settled onto the myriad of dry, fraying covers. Raine rummaged through the mound of books, only to pick one up and hold it triumphantly out in front of her. It looked heavy, bound by a faded green leather with barely-visible gold lettering on its front and its spine.

"This is it," she announced, with an awed, victorious laugh. "Master Boltzman's book."

"You _do_ have good luck, Colette," Sheena commented dryly. "It must be nice…"

Kratos approached a small, familiar-shaped stone table in the center of the room. He glanced across the room at Colette, a dusky, purposeful stare through burgundy bangs. "Chosen One. An oracle stone."

The Chosen's back straightened as if whipped. Lloyd was still beside her, making sure she was steady, and keeping a careful eye on the white fabric at her flank and whether or not it had become tinged with red. Earlier, Genis had mended the hole in her clothing; as a result, her holy tunic now bunched a bit strangely around her ribs, but it held together. So had her wound, thankfully; she didn't seem to be bleeding again.

Lloyd heard her take in a breath, and release it in an adamant rush. "Right." And she strode towards the mercenary, and the small, seemingly insignificant stone that stood beneath her delicate, hovering fingers.

"Wait a second," Sara grumbled.

She'd been quiet since opening the door. The hand she'd been using as a guiding light now rested at her side, though her palm still glowed with a steady, thrumming warmth. Colette looked up at her, a bit startled, and she met the blonde girl's gaze with a staunch one of her own.

"What about this healing thingy?" Sara asked, pointing one claw to the Professor. "Raine found the book, right? Can't we take a second to find out how to make you better, Colette?"

Raine and the Chosen now wore the same somber expression. No words were spoken. But they exchanged a familiar, downtrodden glance that Sara didn't miss. She scoffed a bitter laugh. "Why do you always look like that?" Sara's voice seemed to raise with each word, like the thoughts behind them solidified, hardened into an unavoidable weight. She flung out one hand, gesturing to Colette incredulously as she looked around at the others. "Is no one else seeing this? I'm not the brightest crayon in the box here, obviously, but come on-"

"Releasing the seals is the Chosen's fate," Kratos cut in icily. She glared at him, wide-eyed and bewildered, but he continued on in the same stony, deadpan tone. "Perhaps you've forgotten why you're here."

Sara had never heard him speak to her like that before - downright frigid, with zero hints of compassion or empathy whatsoever. She hoped that her expression didn't look nearly as lost or hurt as she suddenly felt. She tried to cover it with anger, but doubted it was very convincing.

"Please, Mrs. Sara," Colette added gently. "Kratos is right. We're almost there. I just need to release the last seal, okay?" She smiled again - and this time it was genuine, and warm. "Thank you for all of your help. Really. We're almost done."

Sara dropped her outstretched hand. Her freckled face tensed. She bit back a torrent of words, and let out a rough sigh through her nose - but she nodded. "Okay," she murmured. "If you're really good with it, Colette, then - go ahead."

The Chosen did. And the Tower of Mana was no different than the other dungeons. By now, they'd become professionals at navigating each twisting hallway, and fending off each rush of monsters, and avoiding ancient traps that somehow still worked with fresh lethality after all this time. Like the Seal of Wind, this location led upwards - but much farther, and with seemingly endless steps that reached towards the clouds.

Sheena's seals ended up being remarkably effective against the Tower's monsters; there were a few battles during which she almost singlehandedly defeated them, before any of the others could aid her. She was quick, and moved silently. Her hands always flew in intricate patterns that Lloyd didn't understand one bit, but found exceedingly interesting just the same.

Actually, there was a lot about Sheena that he found perplexing. She looked around his age, maybe just a bit older - but she carried herself with a sense of purpose and dignity that reminded him of a less refined and more clumsy version of Raine. Sheena wasn't quite as tall as him, but she was taller than Colette or the Professor. And she was shaped… _differently_.

Lloyd kind of liked looking at her. He wasn't sure exactly why, but he didn't think much of it. She caught him once, when she abruptly whipped around to face a harmless noise behind them, and saw him flick his head away with a diffident grin after a few boggled seconds. This was the last straw in restraining his curiosity. He jogged up beside her, unperturbed, and either ignorant of her flushed face or pointedly ignoring it.

"What's your fighting style called?" Lloyd asked, still grinning.

It took her a few seconds to respond, but eventually she cleared her throat and managed to speak. And even managed a small, confident smile - because he'd _noticed_ … "I'm a guardian user. I fight with seals of paper infused with special powers."

"Guardian user, huh?" He repeated thoughtfully. "When I first met you, I was surprised how you could fight with a piece of paper."

Sheena gestured to his golden Key Crest. "When Dwarves create accessories, they carve charms into them, right? It's similar to that."

"I see," Lloyd murmured, bringing one hand pensively to his chin. His eyes thinned. She could practically see the gears in his head churning furiously. "So if I buy some paper and draw some charms on it…"

"It won't work," Sheena said, trying to hide her amused smirk. "It's a secret art."

He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "Darn."

"If you _really_ want to learn it," she began, rather stunned at her own courage, "you could become one of us."  
Lloyd brightened instantly. His back snapped straight and he stared at her, awed. "How do I do that?"

They were going up a staircase, now. She missed the next step and fumbled ungracefully for purchase on the wall. "Um, like marrying…"

"Okay!"

Sheena's face was going to melt. She was _sure_ of it. Just fall off her skull in globs… " _What_?!"

Lloyd seemed completely content and self-assured. He jabbed his thumb at his own chest. "I just need to marry, right?"

"Um, I-" Seriously, why were there _so many stairs?_ "Um, no, I mean- If you want to, then-"

"I just need to marry someone in your village, right?"

Her jaw felt like it hit the floor. He kept grinning fearlessly, despite her look of pure mortification. "You're so insensitive…" And she dashed up the rest of the stairs, towards where a _thank you gods_ convenient monster sprung from around the corner, and used defeating it as a way to end this hot mess of a conversation.

Lloyd's grin dimmed. He looked innocent and puzzled, and his steps slowed, which allowed Sara to catch up with him. He blinked at her and shrugged. "Insensitive? What did I do?"

Sara snorted a laugh from behind one hand, and used the other to give him a celebratory slap on the back. "Smooth, kid. _Real_ smooth."

* * *

The rest of their journey up the Tower went like clockwork. They arrived at the apex at last - a grand, marble staircase that lead into the sky. At its end was a large stage of more gleaming, beige-colored marble, and the same circular dais that had been present at all three of the previous seals. And just like those seals, this one had its own guardian - a massive, winged horse like creature that materialized from atop the dais and charged at them horns-first. It was challenging, and took a fair amount of effort to defeat, but with practiced teamwork the Chosen's group emerged victorious - and possibly for the last time.

Lloyd was standing next to Colette, and sheathing his swords just as the center of the dais began to glow with an all-too familiar light. At the Seal of Fire, Lloyd had found that light fascinating and exciting, and couldn't believe he'd been so lucky as to witness a literal miracle happening right before his eyes. After all, no one in Iselia had taken the Church's teachings lightly - it was the village of oracles, the inception of daunting, worldly journeys worthy of legend.

The Seal of Water had been nearly just as enthralling, to find out what cool, exhilarating things were going to happen next. But it's also where he'd started to notice a darkness behind all those sparkling lights and pearly feathers, a shadow that had haunted Colette's once-carefree sapphire eyes. And the third seal had cracked his world and rended all secrets violently to the surface.

He didn't know exactly going to happen next, but he already didn't like it . Those gleaming lights were gorgeous and otherworldly, and made his chest tight. He couldn't stand looking at them. He stared at the Chosen instead, at her dainty, balletic profile, flaxen hair and smooth, pale cheeks. She wouldn't - or more likely couldn't - meet his eyes. When she started to walk forward, he reached out and gripped her hand - the same one that had been cut and bloodied before, and part of the sleeve around her delicate wrist still bore faint smudges of the wound's previous presence.

Lloyd squeezed hard, though he knew she couldn't feel it. He said her name in a last, desperate attempt to prevent the inevitable. She didn't acknowledge him in the slightest; her wings abruptly bloomed from her back, those flickering, glassy feathers catching the evening sun, and distracting him just enough so that she could pull her hand out of his.

"Chosen of Regeneration," came Remiel's voice suddenly, as if the sky itself were speaking. "You have done well in reaching this far. Now, offer your prayers at the altar."

Colette slowly climbed the last few steps onto the dais. She looked unbelievably tiny against the vast cerulean distance. Lloyd wanted to tackle her to the ground, throw her over his shoulder and run as far away from that altar as possible-

"O Goddess Martel," the Chosen began, "great protector and nurturer of the earth… grant me thy strength!"

Feathers rained from nothingness, and there was another bright flash - Remiel appeared, a gleaming beacon of emerald, holy white and gold. Lloyd wasn't filled with awe upon gazing at the angel anymore. Instead there was just an embroiled, unsure anger that made his jaw clench. Sara and Sheena were on either side of him; neither woman looked currently thrilled, either.

"Your journey has been long," Remiel intoned regally. "You have done well to reach this far, Colette, the Chosen One."

"Thank you, Lord Remiel," she said, a reticent whisper.

The angel stiffly extended one hand atop her head. "Let us grant you our blessing."

It was incredibly brief, but Colette's shoulders flinched as his palm loomed closer. Her hands clasped beneath her chin, white-knuckled, trembling.

Apparently this was just enough for Remiel to notice, because his chiseled, waxy face pulled into a disappointed frown. "You have taken another step closer to becoming an angel, yet you seem anxious."

Colette shook her head fervently, swaying strands of hair over that stitched-up hole in the back of her cloak. "Ah, no. I'm very happy."

Though her eyes were locked onto the bottom edge of Remiel's tunic, he attempted to meet them. His pillowy wings fluttered softly. "Now, Chosen One. Your journey is finally drawing to a close. It is time for you to rejoice." His arms raised out beside him and he smiled into the sun. "The path to the Tower of Salvation is open! Head to the Tower of Salvation and offer your prayers of regeneration!"

The air felt thin in Colette's lungs. Her throat went dry, and her tongue seemed languid, almost numb. But she nodded anyway.

"Then," Remiel was still saying, "you will be able to climb the stairway to heaven."

Sheena's lips were pulled into a wavering frown. "The world regeneration…"

"The world regeneration is finally going to take place," Genis announced, like he needed to hear it said aloud.

Colette stood up tall and lowered her arms to her sides. Slowly, regally, her crystalline wings spread wide. "I shall do as you say, Lord Remiel."

And Remiel vanished once again, a few of his snowy feathers twisting and dancing in the wind.

"I shall await you at the final seal," his voice boomed, "Colette, my daughter. There, you will become an angel, like me."

* * *

None of the priests at Iselia's Martel Temple knew _exactly_ what would happen to her.

There were vague guesses, based on scriptures and hearsay from the failed journeys of previous Chosens - but no one knew the whole truth. So when Colette had lost her appetite… that was pretty okay. She'd always been a picky eater anyway, and never really delighted in stuffing herself. And then her ability to sleep vanished - even better. That just gave her more of her rapidly-waning time to reflect and appreciate all the things she'd loved about this backwards world. She didn't need to feel anything, either - in the moment, it had let her defend the one she'd loved most, without hesitation or question.

But this time was different.

That heaviness in her throat hadn't left. She wasn't weak at all, or lightheaded, and there was no pain. For a little while, she thought she might've caught a break, that the final seal was the most merciful. As they left the Tower of Mana, and the dying sun once again warmed her face, Colette smiled. She tried to tell everyone to look west, and how the clouds along the horizon made sort of funny, animal-like shapes.

All that left her lips was air. She tried again, because maybe she simply hadn't spoken correctly the first time - after all, she was pretty uncoordinated and forgetful, and maybe the proper way of speaking had fled her sieve of a memory.

Lloyd had not strayed from her side. Her surprised exhale caught his attention, and he stopped walking just as she did. He was obviously prepared to catch her, or support her in what had previously been an inevitable collapse. Colette sent him a grin; she tried to make it reassuring, though it was brittle and glassy as her wings.

"What's wrong, Colette?" Lloyd asked.

She opened her mouth again. Her lungs spat forth the entirety of their air; her mouth hung open wide, desperate to form words. None came.

"I would assume she's lost her voice," Kratos suggested, a dark, opaque cloud.

Genis paled. "What?!"

Lloyd wanted to echo his best friend's words, but found himself unable to speak, too.

 _It's okay,_ Colette said. Her brilliant gaze locked onto Lloyd's, sky meeting earth. _It's okay._ Although she didn't _say_ it, because she couldn't anymore.

"Let's rest here for today," Raine suggested mercifully. "We could all use it."

* * *

Noishe had always liked this time of day, when the sky turned so many different colors, and the land went quiet, sleepy. It made him that much happier, now that he'd found The Boy again, and had showered his unwilling face in salivary affection. "Stop it, weirdo," he was saying, and halfheartedly pushing the creature to the side, though he eventually gave up and allowed Noishe to have his way. Noishe met him in the middle, though, and instead opted to rest on his belly beside The Boy, with his head down and presented in the perfect position for petting. His tail swished happily when The Boy did so, though it was slightly distracted.

The Man seemed a little distracted, too, as Noishe eyed him curiously. He was sitting not far away, cleaning the remnants of a delicious-smelling dinner from his plates and silverware. Noishe perked his head up and whined once to get his attention, but all he received was a quick, emotionless glance.

The hand that Lloyd had been using to scratch behind Noishe's giant ears was now a fist that he propped his chin on. Half of his meal was still untouched and getting cold. He stared into the campfire a few feet away and sighed.

"I'm starting to wonder more and more about this," he mumbled. Mostly to himself, but Kratos was near enough that he'd heard, and now gazed at Lloyd from the edge of one garnet eye.

"About what?"

Lloyd frowned and dropped his hands into his lap. He idly brushed his right thumb over the smooth, glossy surface of his Exsphere. "Whether this 'world regeneration' is really right or not."

That garnet eye narrowed accusingly. "Was it that much of a shock that the Chosen lost her voice?"

... _What the-_

Lloyd's shoulders squared. Fury burned through his chest and made his hands clench. He faced the mercenary fully, fearless and tense.

"You…"

He shot to his feet. He knew Kratos was detached, yes, and impartial, and valued level-headedness above all else, but… Treating Colette's suffering with such a sense of apathy made Lloyd almost glad that Noishe was between he and the older man, so that his fist didn't end up in Kratos' stupid, handsome face.

"Don't you ever _feel_ anything?!" Lloyd growled through gritted teeth.

Kratos seemed completely unphased by any of this. He casually continued his task of stacking a few dishes together, which honestly made Lloyd even more pissed off than if he'd challenged him right back.

"The Chosen becomes an angel and regenerates the world," the mercenary said coolly. "Her current condition is a test. Remiel said that as well."

Lloyd cut one hand through the air. "Then why, if they're both angels, are they so different from each other like this?!"

Kratos sighed deliberately, as if he were stating something painfully obvious. "One would assume that it because she is not yet completely an angel."

This gave Lloyd a bit of pause, as hope sprung to the forefront of his thoughts, replacing rage. "If she becomes a complete angel, will she return to normal?"

"Who knows?"

Aaaaand that rage was back again, with a fervent vengeance. " _You-!"_

Now, Kratos stood. He rose to his full height, an intimidating six inches taller than the boy, with his arms at his sides and one hand resting carefully on the hilt of his sword. His impassive, angled face darkened into something obstinate, militaristic, as did his deep voice: "Taking your frustrations out on me will not help anything."

Lloyd opened his mouth. But much like Colette, all that left it was air.

"Well, then," Kratos continued purposefully. He gestured his burgundy head over Lloyd's twitching shoulder, and at the Chosen, who sat on the other side of camp beside Raine and Genis. "Would you have her stop the Journey of Regeneration? And sacrifice all life in Sylvarant?"

Resigned, exhausted, and terribly confused, Lloyd raked a hand through his hair and gave up. "I know, I know… we can't do that." He stared hard at the mercenary's austere face. "But I want to save her."

Kratos seemed to sense this. He crossed his arms, allowing his hand to leave the hilt of his blade, and his steely expression softened just a little. "There may be a way yet. Do not forget our next task of acquiring the Unicorn's Horn. Focus on one thing at a time."

That _was_ true. They weren't at the end yet, and Lloyd still had plenty to fight for. He turned a little and peered over the fire at Colette; she and the Professor were nose-deep in Boltzman's book, and she didn't notice. But he watched her for a few seconds, until his rigid frown became a small smile.

"You're right." And he turned back to Kratos; he was so used to being befuddled and embarrassed in front of the older man that it just seemed normal now. "As usual. Dammit…"

Kratos smiled too, though it was sardonically with half of his mouth and barely-visible. "The lessons you learn in your training do not only apply to combat. You would do well to remember that."

Lloyd was silent for a few seconds, before it was abruptly shattered by his groaning stomach. He looked away and at the plate resting beside his feet, where Noishe was sniffing it inquisitively.

"I should eat," he decided.

He sat down again and picked up his fork. Kratos strode away, into the obsidian horizon. And that was that.

* * *

Sara was bored just _looking_ at him.

She didn't understand how Kratos could just _sit_ there, not doing anything, staring blankly ahead into the distance. He did this often, and each time it baffled her. What was he thinking about? _Was_ he even thinking? Could he just turn his thoughts off like water from a tap? That would be really nice. Really convenient. And it would definitely explain how he always managed to be so calm, so rational.

Well… not _always._ But close.

There had really only been two times she'd seen him drop that ubiquitous emotionless mask; both, Sara remembered with crystalline clarity, because they'd both involved her, and some part of her body touching his - like physical contact was necessary to crack his shell. The first had been weeks ago, at Thoda Island, when a serendipitous, demon-inspired dizzy spell had placed her conveniently and ungracefully in his arms. She remembered the strange tinge to his voice, and his indecisive hands on her hips - but most of all, she remembered the fact that _he_ started it. She hadn't _meant_ to end up against him… although once she was there, it's not like she attempted to leave in any kind of hurry.

But he'd kept holding her. And even when she'd turned around, pushed him away and demanded to know what he wanted, he pulled her back to him. And then Colette had shown up and… well, the abrupt drop in temperature of Sara's blood probably should've made her own head explode.

And then there was the second time - last night, on a warm, starlit balcony in Asgard where he'd spilled all the beans, just like her. There were no secrets anymore. No guesses. But there was a rift she couldn't cross, because he hadn't been able to let her. Which was fine, and Sara understood completely - so she listened, _again,_ and left him alone like he wanted.

All of this was why she couldn't stop staring at him. Sara didn't mind waiting - actually this was completely untrue, and she was normally _incredibly_ impatient, but… when the end result could be something this impossibly, frighteningly good, she found herself suddenly able to muster up an unlimited amount of patience.

All she'd ever done was listen to him. And she didn't know why that now, somehow, warranted all this silence and bitterness.

It didn't make sense. It pissed her off, made her chocolate eyes harden, made her wear a murderous scowl. It made her walk right up to him, unflinching, and demand: "What did I do wrong?"

Kratos wasn't startled. Nothing could startle him, really, but he still looked up at her tense face with slightly-widened cinnamon eyes. He stood up; Sara hoped it was because he found her glowering, downward glare too intimidating.

"...What do you mean?" He asked. And it sounded genuinely lost, a bit downtrodden, which made her own voice soften a little, and her furiously-crossed arms drop to her sides.

"I've only ever listened to you," she continued. She locked her gaze with his through swaying, fiery bangs. "You said, 'just be yourself' - done. You wanted seconds of my curry - you got'em. Last night, I asked if I could sit beside you - you told me I was welcome. And…"

She paused. Partly because she was out of breath, but mostly because her next words needed to be spoken with only undeniable respect, rather than admonition. "And when you needed me to leave, I did, no problem."

Something shot through his expression then. A peculiar solemnity, a foreign fragility that made his skilled arms and muscular shoulders seem impossibly brittle. He dropped his gaze to his boots and hid his eyes in his hair.

She exhaled, and fought the near-overwhelming urge to smooth those stubborn bangs back from his face. "But you're… like _this,_ Kratos _._ And I don't know anymore if I'm making it better or worse."

 _Better,_ his gut screamed. _So_ _much better_ , and she had no idea, and never would- but instead he said:

"You deserve better than me."

Well, that was _kind of_ what he was thinking. A few of the same words were there, at least. And it felt good to finally say. Because he knew it was unequivocally true.

A weight seemed to lift from his broad shoulders, and he let out a long breath. On top of everything he'd already put her through - those confused, strained, yet still perfectly graceful looks, the forced smiles, the hollow laughs - there was still _far_ more he had yet to harm her with. It was unavoidable, imminent, and worse than she could ever imagine.

Four millennia worth of secrets - with a tower that reached to the stars, and crystal-blue angel feathers, and a broken half-elf boy with emerald green eyes.

Clearly, Sara was a woman of worth, and shouldn't be involved with-

"What the _fuck?"_

His gaze snapped up to hers. He'd been glaring dejectedly at his boots, but now his eyes were wide, genuinely shocked.

"What did you just say?" she muttered. Her tone was utterly terrifying - deliberate, slow. Carnivorous, like a waiting, shivering predator. He honestly preferred her dark voice, when the demons spoke for her.

Kratos swallowed thickly. "You deserve better than me," he repeated quietly.

" _Stop it_ ," she spat. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Her broad shoulders formed a rigid wall.

He blinked. "But, you asked me-"

"Who asked _you_ to decide what I deserve?" She took a step closer. He almost stepped back, but thought better of it at the last second. She shoved one thumb beneath the waist of her skirt, jarred it away from her body, and made the waistband snap back against her tawny skin. "Last I checked, I'm fully decked in my big girl pants. Which means I get to decide that shit for myself."

Kratos Aurion was an eloquent speaker with a quick wit. In his youth, he'd received rigorous military training that had hardened him into an accomplished swordsman. As a result of both of these things, he could honestly never recall a time in his entire life when he'd been left speechless.

This was, officially, the first.

"Kratos," she continued, a little softer. "You're not going to change my mind."

Reality returned and surged his thoughts into motion. He frowned and turned his head, unable to continue bearing the sight of that steely, self-assured look in her eyes.

"But you need to understand something - whatever happens next is _all_ on you," she went on dauntlessly. "I've spoken my peace. You told me once not to change. I haven't, and I won't - but _you_ have. And you need to decide what to do about it."

Kratos wondered idly if this is what Lloyd had felt like not twenty minutes ago - small, confounded. And markedly _told._ He forced his eyes to meet hers, and couldn't remember a time when such a simple action felt so remarkably difficult.

"I understand," he said softly.

She looked puzzled for a moment, like that wasn't the response she was expecting. One of her hands kept absently playing with the amulet dangling from her neck. But eventually she nodded, and smiled a little. "Okay." Her other hand went behind her back and waist. He watched, curious, finding each of her movements strangely fascinating. She procured her trusty flask and ripped out the cork with her teeth. It stayed there, making one side of her mouth bunch awkwardly as she offered it to him and said: "Drink?"

This time, he took it without hesitation. And his draw from its mouth was twice as long.

Sara palmed the cork and pursed her lips. "Jeez. Save some for me."


	27. Volare (Fly)

_Ad caelum, amicum  
_ _Ad astra, tangit luna  
_ _Saporem ventus, supra terram,  
_ _Ante omnia, memento finis  
_ _Magis! Ad mortem!_

 _To the sky, my friend  
_ _To the stars, touch the moon  
_ _Taste the wind, above the ground  
_ _Above all else, remember the end  
_ _More! Until we die!_

(Traditional Kozei village song)

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 _Volare_

* * *

Sara kept her word.

It took the better part of three days to return to the Thoda Geyser. Which called for two more nights of camping, several battles against monsters and bandits, and many conversations over meals. Her attitude hadn't changed in the slightest - she remained confident, upbeat, outspoken, but… she simply didn't direct any of it at Kratos, as if he didn't exist at all. He'd overheard several conversations she'd had with Lloyd - mostly about food, like what protein offered what energy content, and which was best for building muscle ("I thought all meat was the same," the boy had said in wonderment, and then glanced excitedly at his budding biceps). And occasionally about more pertinent things - blonde-haired things, or dark things about the gem on his hand. Both of these subjects always seemed to sap the life from him, but it only took a few well-placed (often crude) words from Sara to put the fire back into his steps.

Sara hadn't truly even laid eyes on Kratos since their agreement. She seemed to hover on the edge of his existence, like an obscure orbiting planet, or a wistful half-forgotten dream. The extent of their interaction remained limited to quick glances - many of which were for mere strategic purposes during battle. The rest were happenstance, or unavoidable. But quickly redirected at anything else, like the slightest contact had become unbearable.

The second night, somewhere just south of Hakonesia peak, Sara hadn't spent with _any_ of them. As the sun descended, she'd bled into the horizon; a pair of white-hot dots on the back of her hands signalled the last of her presence. Kratos had heard her low voice speaking in a restrained, hushed plea: _"Ad caelum, Iona,"_ before what he could still see of her silhouette had been lifted towards the stars between golden, scaly wings.

The air had always kept Sara sane. The way it pushed against her face, and bit into her skin. The way it made her stomach swirl and drop exquisitely, as if tugged around by the planet's gravity itself. Iona's wings were _magical,_ as were the tenacious muscles in the beast's long, graceful neck, and the silver glint to her slender horns as they reflected the moonlight. The way the air rattled the young dragon's scales was the absolute best, though - it sounded like seashells rustling together on a pristine beach; a constant, soothing clicking that changed tone just slightly with each movement.

" _Tangit luna,"_ Sara shouted, grinning exaltedly, flinging one arm towards the heavens. Iona hissed fire from between her bared teeth, like flames rushing through the bars of a cage. Her tail lashed from side to side. She climbed higher, beating her great wings in beautiful bursts, her buttery, amber eyes slitting with purpose, her nostrils flaring and breathing steam.

Sara let go with everything but her legs, which remained in their practiced, trusting spots around the base of Iona's wings. She arched her back and spread her arms wide, welcoming the night air as it slammed into her skin. Iona slowed, craning her long head back to look expectantly at her rider. A low, curious grumble thrummed in her heated throat.

" _Magis,"_ Sara laughed into the stars. "Until we die!"

Iona obeyed without hesitation. Her wings drew in tight against her ribs, as did her taloned paws. Her neck straightened, forming a streamlined missile towards the earth. Sara kept her arms out, despite this insane nose-dive, like some sort of suicidal, grinning lark-

At the last second, Iona caught the air. Her wings snapped open wide, straining, scooping up the wind. This was not an easy trick; it took practice and technique for Sara to remain holding on, since coming to such an abrupt stop always threatened to send her flying off the dragon's back. But after years, and one or more thankfully non-fatal failed attempts, she and her scaly partner had it down flawlessly.

Kratos heard a slight noise from somewhere above his head. The others had fallen asleep already; he was once again night watch, and this sound made his chin tilt and eyes thin in interest - a quiet rushing, as if something were streaking through the air-

The noise stopped. Something thunked to the ground scant inches beside his right leg. Kratos blinked, frowning. He turned his gaze to it, and calmly reached out one hand into the grass - only to pick up a familiar, palm-sized scale amulet lashed to a length of leather.

...Of _course._

Sara may have stayed on her dragon; clearly, her necklace hadn't been so lucky.

He was still staring down at it, idly watching the way its smoky-blue and pale-purple surface caught the bright moonlight, when he heard she and her beast finally return to the earth. He peered back at them over one shoulder. Sara gave Iona one last affectionate chin scratch before the dragon returned to the sky, purring happily. Sara herself looked extremely content too; she seemed to glide along the ground with a foreign, and rather out of place sense of grace. Her hair was a tangled, pumpkin-orange mess. Her duster, while always only buttoned halfway, now sat crooked across her shoulders and waist.

Kratos had picked the trunk of a nearby tree to sit against; as a result, he was thrown into shadow, and she didn't notice him as she headed back into camp, futilely attempting to tame her wild hair with frustrated, painful tugs of her fingers. He glanced from the amulet in his hand, up to her, and back again. His frown deepened. Then his fingers curled; he dropped his hand to his side, and he stood.

Even standing, he was still nearly invisible beneath the shade of the tree. She was halfway to her bedroll, now, and if he stayed still, she would pass by him perfectly unaware. But he stepped forward, for some _inane_ reason, emerging into the light like a royal-blue ghost. While he didn't speak, she caught enough of a glimpse of his frame from the corner of one eye to make her pause. Her eyes flew open wide and she turned just slightly to face him, her mouth hanging halfway open. Her expression reminded him of a startled animal unwillingly discovered in a forest, without shelter or defense.

He continued walking towards her, just as she continued to hold still. She managed to close her mouth and straighten her spine. Her hair remained frayed and in chaotic spikes, but that didn't stop his throat from tightening, or his heart from thudding a little bit louder.

He came to a stop an arm's reach away. His eyes remained firmly trained on her face, counting those freckles for the dozenth time. Slowly, he extended his hand to her, palm up, making the amulet's leather cord sway softly back and forth.

"You dropped this," he murmured.

His voice made her inhale sharply, like she'd forgotten he could speak at all. She swiftly flicked her gaze to his hand before it returned to his eyes. He heard her swallow hard, but then she nodded and set her jaw, which hardly moved whatsoever as she ground out: "Thanks."

And she reached out to take the offered amulet; Kratos pulled his hand back at the last moment. Her outstretched fingers curled into a loose, confused fist.

He saw her brow furrow, and that she was just about to speak again - so before she could, he grasped the other half of the cord in his opposite hand and carefully eased it over her head, like he had the first time he'd given it to her.

Speaking of the first time, it had been mostly by accident that the back of his fingers had skimmed her throat - there were few things that Kratos Aurion was clumsy at, but interacting with a woman was one of them, and after so long, would obviously _always_ be.

 _This_ time, however, was zero-percent unintentional. And there were more fingers involved, with twice the contact, and double the boldness.

Sara dropped her gaze to his chest. With it, her whole head lowered. She sighed, long and resigned; he felt the warm rush of air swim across the skin of his bare shoulders beneath his cloak. Once again, he drew the ends of her hair up and over the cord; he noticed that the wayward, fiery tendrils were longer now, and it made him realize how long ago that first night had been, and precisely how much they both had changed.

She stood completely still. It was almost eerie, as if she were a machine that just simply turned off, and waited patiently to be of use once again. The mercenary's fingertips danced gently along the back of her neck, where spine met shoulders, completely belying his convenient and thinly innocent original purpose. And two of those fingertips dipped beneath the collar of her shirt, like frigid drops skirting along the surface of the sun, continuing their deliberate journey along the subtle ridges of her spine.

"You should be more careful with your things," Kratos suggested.

"You should stop talking," Sara countered.

He _humphed._ She raised her head again, slowly, bit by bit, like a crawling dawn - before it flew to one side, looking back over her shoulder, to camp. Because someone had made a very familiar, awful shout. They both looked at it. Then their eyes met for the last time, before Sara dashed away towards it source, and Kratos' cautious hands fell beside his hips. He watched her go, silent and stiff.

Lloyd slammed bolt upright, gripping the edges of his bedroll in shivering fists. He looked unsettlingly pale, and the stone on his left hand was blazing. He fought for air in great, wheezing inhales, like something had been crushing his throat.

Sara immediately fell to her knees just beside him. Though her face was still undoubtedly flaming, she paid no attention. "Another one?"

Lloyd twitched his head towards hers. Sweat coated his hairline. He nodded furiously, his mouth still hanging open, and his fists crunching tighter into his bedroll.

Noishe appeared beside Sara quite suddenly, as if he'd been waiting for this exact moment, and nuzzled his long snout beneath her arm before settling his head on top of Lloyd's leg and whining his support.

"There were so many voices," Lloyd rasped, now that he could speak. "And I couldn't understand them-"

"It's okay," Sara assured. And Lloyd realized how much he believed those words from her mouth, over anyone else's. "You're okay. I promise." She picked up his hand and placed it on Noishe's head. "Here, pet your dog-thing. He's worried about you."

Lloyd's frantic russet eyes lowered to Noishe's silvery, giant-eared head. He breathed a laugh; the way Noishe was panting made the creature's tongue stick out strangely from the side of his snout.

"Weirdo," Lloyd muttered quietly.

The back of his left hand still hadn't stopped screaming. He felt calmer, and more at peace now, but the gem there had not followed suit. "I wonder why she's…"

Sara hadn't really meant to touch the Exsphere; in the process of drawing away from Noishe's head, the heel of her hand just barely dragged across the gem's surface.

Her back whipped straight. Breath rushed unexpectedly into her lungs. Dusty, ancient memories flitted through her mind, of goodnight kisses, and far-off stories of Unicorns-

"I have no idea," Sara admitted. Lloyd was staring at her expectantly, so she swallowed her bewilderment. "Nightmares don't make sense. Sleep, and start a new day tomorrow. I've got you."

He laid back down, slowly. He was a bit cold, since the campfire had nearly died; Sara seemed to sense this, and blew out a deliberate breath. Though only coals remained, the fire crackled to life. Sparks twirled and twisted into the still air. Lloyd watched them silently, tiredly and hopefully uninterrupted. And the last thing he felt before he drifted off to sleep were long, rather unsure fingers through his hair, somehow smoothing away his shadows, allowing the good-darkness to embrace him again.

Kratos had not looked away from either of them. Along with being called 'not bad,' Sara's tendency to wax unconscious in his presence, and imbibing _completely_ irresponsible and inappropriate alcohol, interruptions were so far a massive trend in their time together. One would think he'd be sick of it by now, or feel frustrated. But the sight of her kneeling beside Lloyd, with that peculiar look of tender concern on her face, and the slightly awkward way she smoothed her hand over the teen's hair…

Well. While strange, it was infinitely better than anything else Kratos could ever come up with.

...And maybe it meant the end wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

Sheena had never been here before, but it somehow felt familiar.

The Seal of Water radiated an ancient strangeness that she'd felt in only one other place - and she didn't _ever_ want to think about that place again. It made her steps slow, her muscles quiver, her throat clog with dread. Stopping here, a dozen paces before the seal, would be remarkably easy. She could make up some sort of excuse about how the mana didn't feel right, or she didn't sense the presence of the summon spirit. Or just that she was simply unable to continue; it's not like the others had any idea about the semantics of pact formation. Her word was gold.

But she led them forward, despite the fear and shame that lashed at her stomach. Their footfalls echoed behind her, a steady, haunting chorus.

Her lavender boots scraped along the wet stone. She paused. Sheena stared into the empty air above the dais with a rigid jaw and indelible hazel eyes.

"Sheena," Lloyd was saying. "Please do the pact thing." Like it were buying groceries, or brushing her teeth…

Colette opened her mouth and tried to speak, as if she'd forgotten she couldn't. Breath rushed out over her useless vocal cords in a tense sigh. She closed her mouth a moment later and held a hesitant hand to her throat. This action made Sheena only more agreeable to finishing her task; the slight blonde girl's strained smile and swishing hair filled her with an entirely unwarranted motivation.

"Okay," Sheena began, after a necessary, deliberate inhale. "I'll do my best. Although I'm… a little scared."

She immediately turned away, towards the dais, and a shower of sparkling crystal-blue lights that flickered in its center.

Genis and his sister flinched; Sara did, too, though it was less noticeable and more of a challenging twitch of her eyes. The mana radiating from the dais was powerful, most definitely - but it didn't feel _heavy_ like that of the guardians. It simply felt smooth, polished. Impenetrable. Like a diamond that had emerged from centuries' worth of stress.

A lone figure began to appear atop the dais. Its edges evanesced first, crawling slowly into existence from nothingness. They revealed long hair, and a flowing, elegant dress that wavered just atop the surface of the stone like floating ocean waves.

Gradually, color and shape filled these lines. Cerulean blue skin. Indigo hair. Seaweed-green armor overtop slim, elegant shoulders and rounded hips. Slightly pointed ears, and fierce, stormcloud-grey eyes that flicked around to each of the Chosen's group before settling with chilling certainty onto Sheena's contrarily unsure face.

"You who possess the right of the pact," the figure began, in a silky, feminine voice like a softly-flowing creek. "I am one who is bound to Mithos. What is your name?"

Oh, okay. Yeah, this was _really_ happening. Sheena knew she should speak, but her throat didn't seem to be working correctly. She stared at the figure's long hair, noting how the ends of each strand seemed to gradually trail off into little rivers of unending water, like rain trickling down window panes-

"Mithos?" Lloyd wondered aloud. "The hero of the Kharlan War?"

Genis' face broke out in a fanatical grin. "Not only was Mithos a swordsman, he had the ability to summon, as well?"

"Mithos is a common boy's name," Raine offered, though her scrutinizing gaze never left the dais. "It's not necessarily Mithos the Hero."

"Yeah, but, like…" Sara frowned and gestured vaguely to the hovering figure, her bright orange hair in stark contrast to its shades of clear blue. "If that's really a fancy Summon Spirit, wouldn't there be a more accurate way of identifying pact-makers or something? Like a numbering system?"

Lloyd stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Hmm, yeah. That does make sense. What if two pact-makers had the same name? How would we-"

"Sheena," Kratos interjected, pressing two fingertips tiredly to one temple. "Please, continue forming the pact at once."

The black-haired girl nodded and cleared her throat. She took one step forward. "I am Sheena! I seek a pact with Undine!"

The figure responded to this name and shook its head. Sheena breathed a half-relieved and half-terrified exhale.

"As things stand now," Undine began smoothly, "I cannot. I am already bound by a pact." She raised one slim hand, all fingers curled into a fist except for the first one, which wiggled from side to side. "I cannot form two pacts at the same time."

The scowl that shot across Sheena's face could've pierced mountains. "You mean your pact with that Mithos guy?" She turned to face the others, her once-proud shoulders crumbling. "What am I supposed to do now? They never said anything about this at the research institute!"

"Uh, hmm," Lloyd grumbled. Then beamed with inspiration: "Can't you just get her to cancel the old pact?"

"How?" Sheena shrieked. Undine was glaring expectantly at her back, surely… "We don't even have any idea where this Mithos person is!"

"A Summon Spirit pact requires a vow," Kratos said evenly. "As long as the pact-maker upholds that vow, the pact remains valid."

Undine nodded, creating a chorus of droplets that plunked softly to the surface of the dais. "That is correct."

"I know about that," Sheena scoffed. She crossed her arms but quickly dropped them a moment later. "The Summon Spirit approves the pact-maker's vow and agrees to the pact."

"Exactly," Kratos continued, low and self-assured. "Therefore, all you need to do is follow Lloyd's advice to request the annulment of the previous pact, and form a new one." He paused here, and his voice changed just a little, to something softer. "It's possible the previous pact-maker has broken his vow. Or he may have… already passed away."

They all gaped at the mercenary. Considering this was the first time he'd spoken more than a handful of words within a few seconds of each other, this reaction was inevitable.

Genis was the first to speak: "Is it really that simple?"

Kratos turned his gaze to the young mage. And though it probably wasn't meant to be intimidating or fearsome, it came off as anything but. "I suppose you could call it simple. But if the previous pact-maker is still alive, and hasn't broken his vow… then there's nothing we can do about it."

Sheena forced a nod. "Okay. I'll give it a shot." She turned to face the Summon Spirit. In doing so, she became instantly and painfully aware of how small she felt in the presence of such an ancient power. Undine simply watched her, the Spirit's otherworldly, graceful face held in a serene mask that didn't alter in the slightest as Sheena began speaking.

"Undine, I am Sheena." She pressed her palms together, beneath her chin, and bowed slightly. "I ask that thou annulst thy pact with Mithos, and establish a new pact…" Say it. Just _go-_ "...with… me."

"Before I can allow the formation of a new pact," Undine began instantly, with absolutely no room for naysay, "I must test your worthiness as a pact maker." Here, she held her hands out beside her, palms forward, and her dress that had been ruffling softly in a nonexistent breeze now buffeted as if caught in a storm.

"Draw your weapons," she ordered smoothly.

"Wh-what?" Lloyd stammered. "We have to _fight_?!"

The Summon Spirit continued on as if he hadn't spoken:

" _Let it begin_."

And she flung one arm towards him. With it, blades of water snapped into existence from the puddle beneath her dress; they launched through the air, razor-sharp, and Lloyd only barely managed to dodge in time. He drew his swords, grimacing, returning steadily to his feet.

Undine simply vanished, leaving a flickering mist in her wake, then reappeared squarely in the middle of them all, only to announce with tranquil surety: "I shall judge your worth."

The stone floor beneath the hem of her ephemeral, quivering dress erupted in churning holy symbols, of span and width unlike they'd ever seen; the writing seemed to spring from the ground itself and hiss otherworldly light into the moist air-

" _Spread!"_

Columns of water shot upwards in a grand circle, throwing Lloyd, Sheena and Sara off their feet. Genis, Colette, Raine and Kratos managed to avoid the attack; the younger Sage immediately began whipping up a lightning spell with his kendama, while the eldest prepared a precautionary healing spell that ended up being incredibly necessary. Colette's wings erupted from her back as she palmed her chakrams; Kratos dashed forward, Lloyd dragged himself to his feet, stunned and thoroughly soaked, as did Sheena, who palmed her seals and began a reckless assault that Undine parried easily, with only unhurried, defensive movements of her thin arms. Every movement of the Summon Spirit's body felt purposeful and solid, but simultaneously flowing and dignified, and with just the right amount of timing to make her opponents look almost shameful.

Sara was the last to recover. She stood, pressing the soles of her boots firmly against the slick stone, and kept futilely attempting to ignite her palms. Undine's presence quenched every bit of her flames. This was only appropriate, really - the Summon Spirit of Water clearly had the advantage here, in this dank cavern, hundreds of meters into the world's lifeblood of moisture.

Genis unleashed his blade of thunder - so far the only thing to give Undine the slightest bit of pause, and Lloyd took the instant advantage, as did Sheena. They both dashed forward, lashing at her unstoppably with seals and swords. Kratos surged between them, a gleaming blur, his deep voice calling " _Lighting Blade!"_ just as he thrust his sword; the element hit her, but the steel missed by inches as Undine twisted gracefully out of the way. And the Chosen unleashed her own holy spell - _Angel Feathers,_ though she didn't say it _-_ as each ghostly projectile sliced across Undine's smooth skin. Summon Spirits didn't curse, but the sound Undine made was bitter and sounded pretty close.

Sara flitted behind Undine, the tails of her duster swaying, her earthen eyes thinned. She lashed out with one hand and dragged her claws along Undine's back. This provided a distraction for Lloyd, who was sure of his strike as he thrust one blade forward; the Summon Spirit sliced one arm through the air, creating a whip of water that knocked Lloyd off his feet yet again.

For the rest of the battle, this was a common theme; Undine's skills were unlike any they had faced, and it took every ounce of planning, experience and dumb luck to finally defeat her. The Chosen's group was left soaked, bruised, bloodied and barely-standing, but victorious nonetheless.

"Splendid," Undine was saying, as if the whole exhausting ordeal had been a mere game to her. She returned to the dais - not walking, but hovering inches in the air, her dress fluttering gently - and faced Sheena. "Now, swear your vow. Upon what vow do you form our pact?"

Sheena swiped her bangs out of her face and nodded. "Right now, at this very moment, there are people who are suffering." She paused, and glanced back over one shoulder at Colette, whose awed face broke out in a warm smile.

"I vow to save those people," Sheena finished.

"Understood. I pledge my power to you."

She vanished instantly, in a shower of azure sparks. A small, vivid-blue stone appeared in her place, and drifted down slowly into Sheena's waiting hand - Aquamarine, a physical symbol of Undine's presence. Sheena stared at it, noticing its warmth and the way it seemed to hum, like a small, faint heartbeat.

"Sheena, you did it!" Genis exclaimed, flinging the last few water droplets from his silver head.

The Chosen smiled again, and mouthed _congratulations_. Sheena breathed a laugh and muttered, "Thanks."

As they departed, Raine's face was scrunched in its signature look of deep thought. She kept giving Kratos a sidelong glare that he noticed, but pretended not to in hopes of avoiding what was surely an inevitable question-

"Kratos, you have in impressive array of knowledge," she said finally. (Translation: 'You know too much and I don't like it.')

"I had an acquaintance who knew a bit about Summon Spirits," the mercenary offered. "That's all."

"...I see."(Translation: 'Bullshit.')

* * *

They took a break back on the mainland, just outside of the 'boat' dock area. This was as far southwest as they'd been in weeks; the plan had been to leave here and return to Lake Umacy, in an attempt to find some sort of technique or secret that could cure Colette's myriad of illnesses. The Chosen had suffered in silence this whole time - and now that was unfortunately literal, although she'd devised a way of communication by writing letters in Lloyd's palm and having him speak for her. Watching them made Sara's stomach churn, and the words perched on the tip of her tongue all that much more difficult to say.

It was getting late, and each of the Chosen's companions were milling about camp, preparing their nightly routines and organizing supplies. Sara sat beside the campfire, one knee pulled up to her chest, and idly making the flames grow and shrink with long, distracted breaths. She stared down at the back of her right hand, tilting it side to side, and watching the way the flickering light gleamed and bounced off of her Exsphere's glassy, smoke-blue surface.

She didn't try to think about them much, her dragons. It was painful to do, and dragged her further into her own head, where she usually didn't want to be. But the western coast was just behind them, and that meant in one short voyage across the sea, Sara could set foot on her home continent for the first time since the day that everything changed.

That thought used to terrify her, and make her glad to venture as far northeast as possible - to get away from the slaughter she'd left in Kozei. Someone had needed to bury those bodies. Someone had had to step over all of that slick, crimson dirt, and face what remained of those people, and give them a decent burial that could at least attempt to make up for the way they'd met their end.

It should have been her. Even if she'd been pelted with stones and curses while doing so, it should have been her.

Each day that passed where she avoided this reality, where she chose to run instead of return, had started to hurt. For the longest time it was easy to prioritize the Chosen and her journey over Sara's individual desires, since that was why she'd begun travelling with them in the first place.

But it wasn't easy anymore. Sara curled her hands into fists and stood up. Even as she started to speak, her gaze didn't leave the swaying flames:

"Everyone. I have a favor to ask of you all."

The others stilled, and turned to face her with curious expressions.

"A favor?" Lloyd asked, lowering the cloth he'd been using to polish his swords. "What is it, Sara?"

Those fists cramped tighter. Her voice was thin, and stung like a swarm of bees as it sawed up her throat. "Now that we're on the western coast again… I want to go back to Kozei."

Lloyd's jaw dropped. Genis straight-up forgot he was holding a fork and let it clatter to the ground. Colette held one hand over her mouth, while the Professor widened her indigo eyes to the size of gald pieces. Kratos, however, looked not the least bit surprised.

"I realize it's selfish of me to ask," Sara continued gravely. She took in a quick breath and let it all out in a purposeful rush. "But, before this journey is over… I need to apologize to the people of Kozei. And I need to pay proper respects to everyone that I…"

She still couldn't say it. Her mouth simply wouldn't form the last word, and it hung unsaid and ominous in the air.

Genis looked frantically at his sister. He was behind Sara, so she couldn't see him, but he kept adamantly shaking his head. If he never went back to that place again, it would be too soon. And the look on the older Sage's face seemed hardly able to argue.

Sara hadn't summoned the courage to look at anyone yet. She could see Kratos out of the corner of one eye, and wanted to turn and face him - hopefully to find some scrap of courage that he'd always freely offered her, but… she couldn't do that, either. She kept speaking, hoping her voice didn't sound as shaky as it felt.

"If the Desian dragon ranch in the mountains is still operational, I want to destroy it like we did at Asgard and Palmacosta. So they can't do this ever again. I… might need your help with that, guys."

No one spoke. A slight breeze and the crackling fire were the only sounds, before Sheena peered around at all of them and asked timidly: "What happened in Kozei?"

Lloyd flinched. Colette dropped her gaze to the ground, but Sara quickly straightened her shoulders, set her jaw, and spoke before anyone else could:

"Bad things that were my fault. That's all you need to know."

Sheena recognized that look on Sara's face. She recognized those words, too, which is why she didn't press the matter, but simply nodded and remained silent.

The Chosen reached for Lloyd's hand; he turned it over for her, and began speaking the words she wrote with one delicate finger into his palm: "You are… my friend. And I will help you… in any way that I can." When he finished, Colette was smiling warmly, and her free hand brushed her long hair back over one thin shoulder.

"Yeah. What Colette said goes for me, too," Lloyd began, finally meeting Sara's awed eyes. His face broke out in a brilliant grin. "Count me in."

"And me," Sheena added, getting to her feet. "You've helped me a lot. I'd like to return the favor."

Raine didn't look quite as enthusiastic as the former three. She waited a little while before speaking, watching the way Sara was staring at both her and the others in a bit of tearful disbelief. The Professor remembered that night a few weeks ago in Asgard, on the balcony, where Sara had simultaneously torn her world apart and painstakingly (if clumsily) stitched it back together. Something she had never encountered before, and hoped she never would again - although that simply made her value its rarity that much more.

"It's a bit out of the way, but… making peace with one's past is an honorable venture." She nodded, too, and didn't smile, but her slender face smoothed into something almost compassionate. "And as such, I would like to accompany you."

Genis tried futilely to hide his scowl in his hair. He crossed his arms and looked away from all of them. He'd hoped, at least, that his own sister might have shared what he considered obvious common sense, but it was clearly not to be. So he kept glaring silently into the distant trees.

Kratos had been standing on the edge of camp, covered mostly in shadow. He now stepped towards Sara, into the campfire's light, half of his angled face illuminated in swaying shadows, his cinnamon eyes diamond-hard.

"Forty-six days," he said quietly.

Sara had apparently been holding her breath, because it now rushed out in a perplexed exhale. "What?"

He took one small step closer. "How many days it has taken you to unearth the courage you have had since the very first."

She gaped at him for a few seconds, unabashed, mind-blown. But then she smiled, like his words had needed a period of time to sink in. And she scoffed a laugh through her lopsided grin as she shrugged.

"Well, better late than never, right?"


	28. Magis (More)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 _Magis_

* * *

DISCLAIMER: The last scene of this chapter is _most definitely_ rated "M" for sexual content.

There will be a **BOLD UNDERLINED** warning before and after the _shenanigans,_ so you can skip them, if you'd like. If you happen to enjoy _shenanigans,_ please continue uninterrupted and guilt-free. ;D

* * *

 _Is this making sense?  
What am I trying to say?  
You're the only sense the world has ever made  
_

* * *

"This is stupid."

If her brother had been talking about the ship they were on - the very same ship that had begun to bounce across the water with far too much enthusiasm for Raine - then she would have to agree. Genis hadn't stopped scowling, which meant he obviously had other reasons, so she asked, "What is?"

"This whole trip. Why are we going so far out of our way?" He flung one arm at the Chosen, who stood on the opposite end of the ship with Lloyd and Sheena by her side. "Colette is almost finished with the journey, and we're taking this huge detour at the last second!"

Raine shook her head. "...It is not our place to question Colette's wishes. She was the first one to make the choice to come back."

She wanted to say the truth: _It will let her live a little longer._ But she knew she couldn't.

"Yeah, but isn't it putting her at risk, too? When we left Kozei, it was crawling with Desians. And we don't even know if they'd let us back in, after what Sara did-"

" _Genis_."

"...Okay. Fine." He crossed his arms and turned away. But now, at the edge of his vision, he could see Sara, which was unacceptable - so he turned away a second time. "But I still think this is _stupid_."

They resupplied at Izoold, after a brief trip across the ocean. In Palmacosta, they'd been lucky to snag a spot on the day's last departing warship; after relaying their intentions, and convincing a handful of soldiers that they'd be doing a personal favor for the Chosen, their passage had been secured. This continent smelled way _fishier_ , and Lloyd had to resist the urge to plug his nose until they'd traveled far enough away from the water and into the forests of the Ossa Trail (after long enough, he figured out how to only breathe through his mouth; though it looked undignified, it was effective).

Kozei was a bit of a geographical oddity, where three distinct environments converged: desert, forest and mountains. The average temperature was worthy of the first climate, in that it rarely dropped below sixty degrees even on the coldest of nights. This was crucial when it came to ensuring a dragon hatchling's success, particularly in the last weeks of development. And the nearby mountains performed flawlessly as nature's jungle gym, where young dragons could learn to navigate jagged winds and climb uneven terrain even while carrying loads or riders.

The neighboring forests provided an abundance of game, which kept both the village's human and dragon residents fed. Or, they _used_ to. Not lately, anymore, since the world's mana had begun to rapidly decline; a typical meal of venison or wild hog had become a luxury. Smaller hunts of pheasant or rabbit had barely sustained the village. The soil had always been too arid and rocky to plant many crops, and the desert's hold carried over into the rain, as well. Which meant that meat, and its many products, had largely sustained Kozei for decades - along with a sparse handful of hardy vegetables such as potatoes, onions and carrots.

Towards the end, before the Desians had invaded, Sara had given up many of her meals to ensure the youngest hatchlings were properly fed. Watching them learn and grow, until the beautiful point where each one could hunt for themselves, had always been worth each growl and churn of her empty stomach. Focusing on her purpose, if she truly tried, could get her through any amount of suffering.

As her boots left dusty craters in the dry, crunchy earth, Sara prayed to a Goddess she didn't believe in that this time would be no different.

Kozei had only one entrance and one exit. East and west, respectively. Umber mountains south, sparse forest northeast, scorching desert northwest. The village's perimeter of simple wooden fence had been replaced with Desian-made bars of cold steel and lengths of barbed wire. A wooden trellis stood at the entrance, unchanged. Sara halted a few paces before it. She'd been striding forward with confident, purposeful steps up until this very point, when all of her courage boiled over and utterly vaporized.

"What business do you have here?" A Desian asked suddenly, appearing beside the entrance with a pair of other soldiers, weapons ready.

Raine and Kratos immediately positioned themselves protectively in front of the Chosen. Sara had led them all here. Which meant she was first in line, and therefore needed to find her entirely uncooperative voice.

"I want to speak with the mayor," she announced.

The lead Desian snorted a laugh. "He's dead."

"I know," Sara growled. "His son is mayor now, isn't he? Kane Clark?"

"You know him?"

She nodded, and tried to ignore the uncontrollable way her hands curled into fists. "Yes. Tell him Sara Baldasarre is here to see him."

* * *

Eighteen years ago, a tiny orange-haired girl had asked him a favor.

Kane had been sixteen, and this girl couldn't have been much older than nine or ten. He'd seen her a few times here and there, on frequent passages to Asgard for supplies and trade. The delivery route between Kozei and Asgard was well-ridden; in his four years as an official dragonrider of Kozei, Kane hadn't expected this trip to be any different.

He approached the windy city at a soaring sprint. The slicing breeze whipped his jaw-length dark hair. He kept grinning beneath the blue bandanna tied around his face and the thick amber goggles protecting his eyes. Descending was always a welcome maneuver that made his stomach flop around in just the _best_ way. He couldn't get enough, which is why he'd signed up for this job as soon as he'd hit twelve - the minimum age for Kozei's dragonriders. Adrenaline was the only drug Kane Clark had ever tried, and the only one he'd ever need.

His dragon's name was Garon, a proud, dusty-green adolescent male hailing from the eastern hills. Garon was short and stocky, with a nose-to-tail length that could hardly be deemed impressive - but a heart of pure fire and shining gold. It had taken awhile for the beast to warm up to him, as it did with most humans, but Kane hadn't wanted another partner, and doubted he ever would.

They landed swiftly at the cave's entrance. Kane lowered his bandanna to his neck, and propped his goggles up onto his head. The girl had been waiting inside, peeking nervously around the corner, and waiting for him to pass by.

As he did, she lunged in front of him, making both Kane and his following dragon stop suddenly. Her small, freckled face looked covered in dirt, as did her shirt and shorts. She was trying to look some shade of stubborn, but the quivering of her bottom lip and the tears welling in her chocolate eyes kind of ruined it.

"You're that guy," she said. "I see you fly in and outta here all the time."

At sixteen and an only child, Kane didn't have much experience interacting with younger kids. He glanced back at Garon over one shoulder, like the dragon could offer him advice or something, though all he received was a patient, golden-eyed stare, and a curious turn of a horned head.

"Uh, yeah," Kane began awkwardly. "I'm a dragonrider from Kozei. This is my job."

"When are you leaving again?" The girl asked, tilting her chin up as if this would help her lip to stop quivering.

Kane barely resisted the urge to snort a laugh. "Well, in a few hours. Just gotta drop off my load, then get Garon here fed and watered then I'm on my way back to-"

"Please take me with you!"

He watched, bewildered, as the girl darted forward and took two fistfuls of his tunic in her hands. "Please, dragon guy. I have to leave here now! They… they took Sissy, and now I'm all alone, and she told me I can't stay here anymore."

Greeeeeeat. This is just what he needed to start his week: a stowaway. "Uh. Where are your parents?"

"Dead," she answered succinctly. "Sissy was with me, though. But now…" Those tears threatening to spill over now ran in tiny rivers down her smudged skin. "Now I'm alone. Weren't you _listening_?"

Dammit. His father was going to _kill_ him. Kozei was already low on supplies and food, and bringing another person inside their fences would just be a burden-

"You're dragon's pretty," she was saying. She let go of him and approached Garon with one awed, outstretched hand.

"Wait, he doesn't-" But to Kane's immense surprise, Garon met her halfway, lowered his head and pressed the tip of his scaly nose gently into the girl's waiting palm. "-like strangers… How are you doing that?"

"I like dragons," came the factual reply. "If you take me with you, I promise I'll work hard. I can even cook my own dinner."

Kane sighed. Garon had started purring, his eyes closing halfway, and contented smoke streaming from his nostrils.

"I'm not going to take care of you," he said, crossing his arms defiantly.

The girl mirrored his stance perfectly. "Good, 'cause I can take care of myself!"

"Don't you have anything to take with you?"

She promptly dashed around the corner and returned wearing a laden backpack and an oversized pair of goggles that barely stayed on her face.

Now, Kane _did_ laugh. "Alright. Here." He extended Garon's reins to her. "You can start working now. Take Garon to the pens and get him some water."

Her face lit up brilliantly in a pearly-white smile. "Okay!" She took the leather straps instantly; Kane worried for a moment that she'd jerk Garon's head too much, but she instead made a point not to.

Kane blinked, and called after her, "What's your name?"

She grinned back at him and waved a hand. "Sara Ir-" She paused, both walking and speaking, for just a second. "Er, Baldasarre. Sara Baldasarre. Nice to meet you, dragon guy."

"I have a name too," he retorted. "It's Kane."

"Okay, dragon guy."

* * *

He'd married his wife Minna five years later.

Sara had helped Minna and her mother, a longtime Kozei resident named Suka, set up decorations and chairs in the town hall. The three women always got along well, though they were each separated by a decade or more, and had completely opposite hair colors - Sara's was pumpkin-orange, Minna was stark blonde, and his mother's was charcoal-black.

Two years after his wedding, Kane became a father. In all this time, and despite many protests from his wife, he'd cut his hair only once - it now hung in a long sable-brown ponytail halfway down his back. Along with his own father, the Mayor, Alban Clark, Sara often helped take care of his family. She would cook or do laundry, even get them food - just little things that made the chaotic life of a new parent a little easier.

Sometimes she would watch the kids herself. This made Minna slightly nervous, always - Sara wasn't the _gentlest_ of people, and favored wrestling or dangerous sports like archery over much calmer, safer things like reading, or art… But Kane kind of liked it that way. He trusted Sara, always, despite the occasional bruise or scraped knee.

Then, forty-seven days ago, Sara killed his father and mother-in-law.

And Kane had seen everything.

She now stood on his porch. She was wearing the same gauntlets, with the same spikes, and the _same claws_. Minna and his children were just inside, staring in horror through the open front door; she began urgently rushing them away, into their rooms.

Kane kept a shotgun inside the closet just beside his right hand. He'd be lying if the thought of simply blowing Sara's head clean off hadn't crossed his mind.

"What are you doing here?"

"Where is Garon?"

Kane blinked. His hand was still on the doorknob, and it gripped tighter, shaking. "Wh...what?"

"Garon," Sara continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "And Elsa, and Ouro. And the others, too. Where are they?"

"The Desians," he blurted. "They have all of them- what are you _doing_ here, Sara?"

"Later." Her face was a stony, unforgiving mask that he didn't recognize at all. No warmth, no compassion whatsoever. He never _did_ know why she'd done what she had. What had unleashed such a bloodlust, such a violence he'd never seen-

"Stay here," she was saying resolutely. "I'm going to get our dragons back."

She turned away. A group of others had apparently accompanied her; they all had weapons, and looked like experienced travellers. Bodyguards? Not a bad idea, considering the complete lack of welcome she'd undoubtedly expected. It didn't stop him from wanting to brandish that shotgun.

"Sara. _Stop_."

She paused. Her steps faltered just like they had eighteen years ago, when he'd first asked for her name.

"We've accepted the Desians," Kane continued, gravelly, nauseous. "We didn't have a choice. If we fight them at all, they'll attack us. They've already injured eight people."

She squared her shoulders. "That's exactly why I need to-"

" _Haven't you killed enough of us already?_ "

She seemed to crumple and draw inwards, as if a great, black hole had opened in the center of her chest. That stony mask of her face shattered. She turned her head so that he wouldn't see - but he did, and he was glad of it.

"Stay here," she repeated thinly. "If they come for you, I'll protect you."

" _Bullshit_!" Kane lunged for the closet door. "You're just going to-"

"I didn't mean it, Kane," she said suddenly.

Her voice cracked, and the sound of it made his hand pause just in time. She faced him again and stepped closer; he reflexively backed up through the doorway, breathing hard, nearly stumbling on the carpet, his green eyes wide and frantic as they locked onto hers.

"I know that means fuck-all to you, and you don't understand," she continued, futilely attempting to solidify her watery tone. "But I didn't mean to kill them. I'm sorry."

He didn't know what to say. So he just stood there silently and watched her leave.

His wife peeked her head around the corner and started to speak; he cut her off by raising one hand, and motioned for her to return.

"It's not over," he told her, swallowing hard. "Don't… don't come out here."

* * *

Lloyd was honestly pretty surprised no one had recognized him yet. After all, he was the famous Wanted Criminal (he couldn't remember the number exactly - something with a seven). Maybe since this was so far away from the other networks of ranches, these Desians weren't as in the loop? He kept eyeing them warily as they left Kozei, his hands hovering forever near the hilts of his blades.

The soldiers had taken over the entire village - its shops, offices, and even many private homes to provide resources for their manufacturing equipment. Kozei's natives didn't look quite as bad as the prisoners from the Human Ranches, but they were pretty close; the Desians were obviously not being generous with their food or medicine. He thought back to what that man said earlier, as Sara had stood on his porch: ' _We've accepted the Desians._ ' And it made his blood boil all over again.

"How can they just sit back and take this?"

"The dragons were all we had," Sara explained. She led them all north, towards the mountains, just as the sun started to set. "The Desians knew what they were doing, by offering everyone so much gald. They never had any intention of leaving the village. Or _letting_ anyone leave, either."

Raine frowned. "So by removing Kozei's only income, the Desians made its people entirely dependent on them. Despicable."

Sara's steps slowed a little. She stared hard down at her boots. "I tried warning them. No one would listen to me. We've been hurting for money for a long time, so as soon as they saw those bags of gald - nothing I said mattered."

"We'll just have to make the Desians pay," Sheena said gravely. When Sara met her gaze, she smirked confidently and rubbed her hands together.

"Yeah," Lloyd agreed. He nudged Sara's shoulder, like she'd done for him so many times. "We're pretty much pros at destroying ranches now. This one won't be any different." And from beside him, Colette nodded fervently and offered a kind, uplifting smile.

Kratos walked behind Sara. She could feel him looking at her back. She turned her head, just enough to catch a glimpse of the determined glint in his garnet eyes, and the silent, supportive nod of his burgundy head.

"Thank you," Sara croaked. She passed the back of her hand swiftly over her eyes. "I don't deserve you guys. Not one damn bit. Thank you."

* * *

"Let me take a look," Sheena was saying in a low whisper. They'd managed to hide themselves behind a small outcrop of rocks a few hundreds yards from the entrance of the mountain ranch. But the security was higher this time, and there was less of a distraction now that Sara hadn't singlehandedly started a battle of her own within the walls.

"I'm pretty good at finding ways inside these places," the black-haired girl continued. "I'll be right back. Wait here." She darted off to the left, crouched low; night had fallen, and she bled seamlessly into the shadows, her steps quick and hushed

"Do you think this ranch is run by another of those Grand Cardinals?" Lloyd asked quietly.

Kratos shook his head. "Kvar oversaw this ranch, as well. With the blows we dealt to Asgard and Palmacosta's ranches, it's likely that only his underlings are still here."

Colette took Lloyd's hand again. He spoke slowly: "I can hear… the dragons inside."

For just a moment, Sara felt a disgusting sense of both relief and fury. "So at least some of them are still alive. Good."

They waited in silence for several minutes. Sara poked her head just barely over the rock's face, watching the ranch's well-lit walls, the armed patrols, the thick, solid metal gate she'd crossed through once before. Her claws curled into the stone. Every fiber of every muscle thrummed mightily, anticipatory, impatient. She wanted to launch herself over the rock and tear the gate open herself, stealth be damned-

Kratos stepped up beside her, slowly and with purpose. He had to bend down a little, since he was taller than her, but still managed to do so with a ubiquitous grace.

"You don't need me to tell you anymore," he said softly, peering at her with a sidelong, subtle stare. "Do you?" Though it was more a statement than a question.

Sara widened her eyes a little. "Tell me what?"

"That you will succeed."

"No," she said quickly, and rather surprisingly, without a hint of doubt. "No, I… guess I don't."

His mouth didn't smile, but his eyes seemed to, somehow. "Good."

"Hey, guys, I-"

" _Holy shit,"_ Sara hissed at Sheena, who had returned to them completely undetected. Sara gulped down a breath and held her hand to her chest. "You scared the _hell_ out of me."

Sheena scoffed a throaty laugh. "Told you I was good at sneaking. Anyway, I found a weakness in the perimeter wall." She gestured her elbow due north. "There's a maintenance door, and it's only guarded by three Desians. If we take them out, we can get in."

Lloyd ripped out his blades. "Lead the way."

They followed her, carving a wide half-circle before finally zeroing in on said door; Kratos took out the first Desian, while Sara ended the second, and Lloyd the third, in perfect, bloody synchronicity. The door was locked, of course; Sheena fished through the pocket of one Desian, procuring a square card key similar to the one they received from Dorr back in Palmacosta. Within moments, they all filed inside, undetected.

The room beyond was small and dimly-lit; they all barely fit inside. At its opposite end stood a door labeled with a polished brass sign that read "Courtyard." Sara inched towards it; the others stood still, watching her carefully.

Genis did not like how small this room was. He rarely tolerated enclosed spaces of any kind, much less _here_ , and with _her._ He knew this was Sara's worst fear, where her whole journey with them had started, where she'd lost what was most important to her. He knew that her eyes could turn black again, and that darkness could come back - the one that made him feel like he was being crushed beneath twenty boulders, that pricked his skin, that sucked every bit of breath from his lungs.

"I don't want to do this," he heard himself say.

Raine turned to look at him first, slowly, followed by Lloyd and Colette, then Sheena and Kratos, and lastly Sara herself. Under her brown-eyed gaze, he turned away. He felt a little silly; it's not like he hadn't battled beside her before, but… this place was different. This place was the root of all her evil, of memories he wanted nothing more than to forget.

And Genis wanted no part of it.

"I don't want to do this," he repeated, his kendama hanging limp at his side, his silver head lowered. "I want to leave." He reached out and tugged on his sister's sleeve, though his gaze didn't leave the metallic floor. "Please, can we leave?"

"What are you talking about, Genis?" Lloyd asked, shaking his head. "We all agreed that-"

"It's alright," Sara cut in. She'd given them her broad back, and once more faced the door. Her voice was strangely deadpan and monotonous. "Sheena. There's a House of Salvation two miles east of here. Please take everyone there."

" _What?"_ Lloyd demanded furiously, shoving himself forward. He tried to meet Sara's eyes, but she kept them hidden in her bangs. "But, we're here to help you!"

"By _choice_ ," she countered sternly. "Genis isn't. He wants to leave, and that's his choice. I'm not forcing anyone to do anything"

"But I chose to-"

"Raine won't leave him," she continued, glaring with all of her might at that door handle; Lloyd wondered idly if it might burst into flames. "She can't leave her brother. I wouldn't want her to. And she's your teacher, and Colette's. You started this journey together. I can't ask you to separate now."

Lloyd's throat worked. He looked at Colette, who simply stared back at him sadly _._ Then at Raine, whose sleeve Genis still had a hold of in one small, trembling fist. The Professor's mouth was pulled into a thin, terse line that wordlessly said, _she's right_.

This tight room seemed to amplify Sara's voice to deafening proportions, even though she spoke barely above a whisper. "Sheena is the only one who can lead you out of here without the Desians noticing. And Kratos is Colette's guardian-"

"Lloyd," the mercenary said suddenly.

The teen glared at him. "What?"

"You have come far in your training," Kratos went on. A compliment? _Now?_ Though welcome, Lloyd wanted to throw his hands in the air in exasperation, because _what was happening?_

"Protect the Chosen," Kratos finished, and stepped forward.

Sara's bowed head whipped up lightning fast. She gawked at him, her jaw dropped. It was no small wonder that she remained standing at all. But he simply kept looking ahead, as if she didn't exist.

Lloyd felt a little better about all of this, now. Marginally, but enough. At least Sara wouldn't be alone, and he would get to momentarily become Colette's _official_ guardian. Which, in all actuality, was pretty cool, and kind of what he'd wanted since day one, so…

"Alright," he murmured. He took in a breath, extended his arm, and rested one hand on Sara's shoulder. "I would tell you to be careful, but I know you'll be fine."

She turned her head, just a little. But enough for him to see her halfhearted smile. "Thanks, kid. Now get out of here."

Night loomed beyond the doorway, as did the tips of the nearby mountains and the clouds that hovered at their peaks. The moon glowed, a bright, pale sphere. Sara watched her friends leave one by one until the door hissed closed.

The remaining suffocating silence tore at her ears. Kratos hadn't looked at her yet, even though they were alone. She could hear him breathing, and see the steady rising and falling of his broad chest.

"Why did you…" she trailed off, her voice vanishing entirely.

He made no attempt to look at her. She wanted to say something else, some necessary word of gratitude. But instead, before her dumb throat could form intelligent words, Kratos reached out one hand, opened the courtyard door, and said simply: "Follow me."

The strikes he made against the Desians were sure and true. Though he led the charge, Kratos glanced at Sara constantly, asking wordlessly for her feedback. She strode into the fray beside him without hesitation. When she faltered, he provided healing and defense. And she easily caught the movements of enemies that he was too preoccupied to notice. They seemed to be two sides of an hourglass, forever feeding off of one another in an indelible cycle.

It only made sense that Kozei's spoils were kept in the ranch's deepest levels. The small village had been good at one thing, and one thing only - raising and breeding reputable dragons. The Desians cared for none of this, and seemed to delight in stripping away such magnificence. Much like their human captives, these beasts were slim, emaciated and pale. Barely able to move, let alone fight back. Heavy chains were lashed around their ankles and wrists. The wind had been denied to them for too long; as a result, their wings slackened, atrophied, hung useless to the dirt. Scales had been chipped away along their ribs and thighs, exposing raw, angry skin. Proud, battle-worn horns were now brittle and flayed.

"They thought of everything," Sara ground out. "They knew just how to make them suffer-"

"Their chains are mostly lead," Kratos interjected, picking up a link and turning it back and forth in one hand. "Impure, and quickly made. It should be no problem to melt."

The breath left Sara's lungs in a tired sigh. "There's so many… I couldn't-"

" _Begin_ ," Kratos commanded. "I will support you. We've no time to waste."

Sara gaped at him. Probably for the thousandth time.

Then, she listened. She focused all of her energy on breaking one chain after another, using her palms as makeshift, remarkably effective blowtorches. Lead, while heavy, was a surprisingly soft metal that melted at what felt like the slightest touch; not nearly as stubborn as the steel of the Tower of Mana's front door. This was like easing a hot knife through butter, rather than a dull, warm knife scraping endlessly through unrelenting stone.

Garon was one of the first. She hardly recognized him, with the sickly green his scales had faded into, and the sunken mask that had replaced his proud, strong face. He knew her scent instantly; as soon as she'd bent to remove his shackles, he'd eased the tip of his nose against her cheek and purred in that low, familiar, slightly terrifying way she'd remembered from day one.

"You're alive," Sara said, nuzzling her face against his long nose. "Oh, shit, you're alive. Thank gods. I've got you, now."

Footsteps shook the ground. Many yelling voices pierced the air, along with the clanking of armor.

"More are coming," Kratos announced, gripping the hilt of his blade with both hands. "Finish quickly."

"Just a few more. Hold them off as long as you can."

"...As you wish."

He cut them down, one after the other - flawlessly parrying each assault, dodging each strike, countering each forward thrust. One of them carried a crossbow aimed straight for Sara's back; the ground beneath the mercenary's feet glowed and swirled with holy symbols, before he flung forward one arm and shouted, " _Grave!"_

Jagged spears of obsidian rock erupted from the earth and punched cleanly through the Desian's chest. He dropped the crossbow, just as Sara stood and said, "That's all of them. We've got to get them through the gate. They can't fly like this."

Kratos nodded. "This way."

They carved a path foward, until that great metal gate stood just before them. Sara glanced repeatedly back at the dragons. There had to be at least thirty of them, and though a few had a difficult time keeping up due to their injuries, eventually they all gathered around her. Horned heads were craned high. Curious, hopeful purrs rumbled at the base of long throats.

A control panel was anchored to the wall; Kratos approached it, and after a few swift keystrokes, the gate began to scrape open.

"Lead them away," he ordered, meeting her eyes briefly. "I will set the self-destruct mechanism."

The idea of leaving him behind, even temporarily, didn't sit well with her, but she knew she had little choice. So she held one hand beneath Garon's chin, and said softly, "Follow me. I'll get you out of here." The beast groaned a roar of agreement.

With each step forward, the dragons seemed to realize this freedom was not fleeting. They began to beat their wings again, releasing excited, fitful shrieks and growls into the night air. Sara clasped one hand over her chest and lowered her head; a few moments later, Iona joined their ranks. She landed gingerly, bouncing back and forth on her paws, her tail swishing, like she had to decide if what she was seeing actually existed.

Garon called out to her first, then the others did, one by one, until she galloped forward as fast as she could. Her golden wings fluttered jubilantly. She kept showering her long-lost friends and cousins with affectionate, overjoyed nuzzles that were returned with fervent, if exhausted tenacity.

"Iona, my friend," Sara breathed, among a chorus of triumphant roars, "take us home."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, an explosion rocked the ground.

Kane hadn't been sleeping, merely sitting beside his front window and staring out into the night - but it still nearly made him fall out of his chair. He shot to his feet, eyes wide. Glowing streaks of debris sailed into the air just past the neighboring mountains; he could see billowing, angry-red smoke drifting upwards, blotting out the stars and moon.

"What was that?" Minna urged, one hand in each of her children's hair.

He didn't look back at her. "That's where the ranch… I'm not sure. Stay here." He laced up a pair of boots, threw on a jacket, and darted outside.

The first thing he noticed was the complete lack of Desians. Normally they walked patrols at all hours of the night, keeping the village's nine o'clock curfew in strict effect with whips, swords and crossbows. But they'd vanished - recently, it looked like, judging by the fresh footprints in the dry earth. Still, he glanced around warily, listening intently for any sign of trouble.

Nearly all of the villagers had been drawn outside by the blast, too. He spoke with several others, but no one seemed to have any idea what had happened. They ventured across the village, towards the eastern entrance, watching that smoke churn into the air. The fire that fed it glowed blindingly, a flickering, white-hot rage.

As Kane walked closer, he saw several shapes backlit by the flames. _Too_ many. A whole army's worth, and for a moment he filled with dread - were the ranch's Desians coming for them? Had Sara gone and done something stupid, and now they were all going to be punished? Panic crushed the air from his lungs. He turned around quickly, looking frantically back at his house, wondering if he sprinted, could he make it there in time to evacuate his family-

"I don't believe it," someone was saying. "It's our dragons."

Kane didn't believe it. Not one bit. He sprinted, but not back towards his house. Forward, towards those shimmering silhouettes, past houses and neighbors, and all the way through the eastern gate.

When he finally came to a stop, he was heaving for breath. His eyes were strained open wide. He kept shaking his head - because one of those shapes was short, and bulky, and a very familiar, _beautiful_ shade of green.

Garon paused just before him. They all did - so many of the dragons he thought he'd never seen again, that the village had abandoned for greed, that now stood silently watching, and waiting.

"Hey," Kane managed. He held out one hand.

Without missing a beat, Garon pressed his nose against it, and Kane had never felt something so rough, dusty and wonderful.

"I'm sorry," he continued. His voice was awful and ashen, and barely escaped his throat. But Garon didn't care. He simply flared his withered wings, and kept purring.

Suddenly, something bright and orange flashed at the edge of his vision. Kane recognized it instantly. Sara waited a few yards away; she looked a little dirty, and exhausted, but none of this tampered the gleaming, steely resolve in her umber eyes.

"Tarja and Ko'tenda are dead," she announced. Iona, their hatchling, stood behind her, and she idly pressed one hand to the dragon's shoulder. "So are Belial, Iskur, Londys, and Rodan. But I've brought home everyone else."

As soon as she stopped speaking, the dragons rushed forward, meeting their respective owners once more in an array of stunned, tearful reunions. Kane kept looking at her, though. A tall man with reddish-brown hair stood beside her; Kane recognized him as one of the people in her group from earlier in the day. In one hand, he gripped a bloodied sword that he just now, purposefully, put back in its scabbard.

"They're sick," Sara went on. "The Desians did this on purpose. They need food and exercise. It will take awhile for them to recover, but you'll be able to fly on them again soon."

Kane shook his head slowly. "How did you…? The ranch?"

"Destroyed," she assured. "And the Desians won't bother you anymore."

He simply stared at her. There were a thousand and one things he wanted to say, names he wanted to call her, thank-yous he wanted to give, but he couldn't speak.

She was silent for a few moments, too, before she stepped towards him. Carefully, and calmly, like she were overstating her peaceful purpose. This time, he didn't back away.

"You don't have to forgive me," she muttered. "I don't expect you to. Just let us spend the night here." She took in a breath. "And in the morning, let me pay respects to their graves. Please."

Garon nudged his shoulder. Kane should've told her no, _absolutely_ not, that he'd never allow his father's murderer anywhere near his resting place, because that was the _ultimate_ disrespect-

"Alright. Just tonight. And in the morning, afterwards, you're gone."

She held one hand over her mouth. Her eyes filled instantly with tears, and she choked a sob into her palm. But she bowed her head, and her whole body to him in pristine respect.

He heard her struggle to say his name, and then, "Thank you." And she couldn't see it, but he nodded. The others were heading back into the village, dragons in tow. He followed them, keeping one hand pressed against Garon's thick neck.

It took forever for her to stand up straight again. When she finally did, Iona was the only dragon left beside her. The beast was giving Sara a curious stare, her long head cocked slightly to one side, as if asking an unspoken question.

Sara pointed to Kozei. "Of course. Go see them, please."

That was all Iona needed. She galloped away, beating her wings to give herself speed, growling joyfully.

Kratos took her place. He was looking intently at Sara's face, and the way she still had her mouth covered with her hand. Her eyes hadn't stopped watering, and her shoulders were hunched, trembling.

"Th-that's more than enough," she rasped. "That's m-more than I ever hoped for."

* * *

This door.

It was familiar. Heavy. Made of stained, worn wood harvested from the trees mere meters from her own house. It both looked and felt indestructible; her hand had been poised above its surface for several seconds, hovering indecisively.

Sara's home was right next to the inn. She'd always liked that. It let her meet new people easier, make business easier… gain friends more quickly. But tonight, it was a curse. It had gotten her here far too fast. She was still standing here, in front of this stupid door, without any idea of what to really say - although it was clear _something_ had to be said. Right? Isn't that how these things worked?

She swallowed hard. The fingers on her left hand tugged through her bangs and back through loose hair. Those of her right hand knocked twice before she returned them quickly to her side. The sharp rapping of her knuckles pierced the air, louder than cannon fire.

A few seconds passed silently. Her earthen eyes were wide and furtive; her ears strained for any sort of noise. Then, finally, in a low, calm voice, she heard: "...Come in."

So she did. The door unlatched as she pressed down its silver handle. Her chest was bursting, full of flames that rose all the way up to her face and cheeks, reddening her freckled skin. She held her breath. The floor creaked and groaned beneath her feet as she stepped into his room.

Kratos was reclined on his bed, halfway sitting. He didn't match the room at all, and came off like some exotic animal housed in a plain, unworthy zoo. His sword and scabbard leaned against the headboard, always within an arm's easy reach. His hands were behind his head - it looked as if he'd been staring out the window beside the door - but they lowered to his sides when he saw her.

It was probably totally his imagination, but he felt the air warm. His wandering senses snapped into focus. His chin raised, and his lips parted just a bit at his next breath.

She closed the door and stood before it, her head lowered. Those fiery bangs hid her eyes, which seemed to be locked straight onto the floor. What he could see of her face was tense and fragile, but she smiled anyway.

"Hey," she said softly.

Normally she was an open book and Kratos (or anyone, really) could pretty easily read into her intentions. That was not the case right now. Her emotions felt nebulous, unstable. He sat up and nodded a greeting back.

One of her hands fidgeted with the hem of her grey skirt. Her hair was down - he wasn't sure if he'd ever seen it that way before. She looked like she'd been ready for sleep but had chosen to visit him instead; atop her skirt she wore a comfortable, short-sleeved black shirt, and her usual matching leggings were absent.

"I, um…" She sucked in a breath. "I know it's late, but I just wanted to say thanks. For earlier."

Kratos sat up more and slid his legs off the side of the bed, watching her. Outside, it had started to rain, the drops plunking softly to the dusty ground and accepted gratefully into the parched dirt. Against the inn's wooden roof, it echoed pleasantly, creating a soothing white noise that covered his silence. He wanted to speak, but he sensed that she hadn't quite finished. Her voice was brittle, and he also wanted to ask why - although he already knew the answer.

"It…" She paused for a shuddering sigh. "It really meant a lot to me."

His chest tightened. One of the hands at his sides did, too, as he slowly stood up. The world began to melt away, until she, and him, the rain on the roof and this warm, quiet room were the only things to exist.

"I know," he said quietly.

"Kratos…" She kept looking at her feet like she felt afraid to meet his eyes. "You keep doing all this incredible shit for me, and I-I can't…"

Can't what? Can't _what?_ Take it anymore? Wait any longer? He wanted her to say it. He _needed_ her to say it, but she never did, because she was too compassionate, too patient, too _perfect_.

Thunder crashed outside, an appropriate soundtrack to what went on inside of him. He was standing still but felt the world sway. He gently said her name.

"If you tell me to leave right now," she said, "I will. And I won't say another word."

He knew that was an irrefutable fact. And it made the bottom drop out of his chest. His heart slid forth unstoppably, vulnerable, desperate. Absently, he clutched one hand to his sternum as if attempting to hold it in, his fingers pressing into the royal blue fabric of his tunic.

He didn't want to tell her; he'd never wanted to. But this time was different.

Because he _couldn't._

Her eyes snapped up to his, watery, chocolate-brown. She covered her mouth with one hand as she shook her head, like she were ashamed of her words, although they were the among the most beautiful he'd ever heard:

"Please don't tell me to leave-"

Her voice was painful to hear, like the shattering of glass.

So he crossed the room, and silenced it with his lips.

Kratos ravaged her mouth with frenzied, fierce kisses, fueled by an insistent roaring from his gut - at last craving more, finally demanding _her._ His hands cradled her freckled face. Small sounds kept leaking from his throat because he never ever could've predicted how absolutely _wonderful_ she tasted, or the citrus-spice scent of her hair and skin, or how good her fingers felt as they curled urgently against his head… or the sublime combination of softness and solidity as her body pressed into his.

She was unreal. She shouldn't be here at all. And she _really_ shouldn't be kissing him back, especially this _well_ , and with this much ferocity. He'd given her _so_ many reasons to move on. But she'd waited - and she'd listened.

It made his thumbs press harder against her jaw, his breaths deepen, his hips pin her against the wall with scalding certainty.

"Kratos," she choked breathlessly, "i-is this really happening?"

"Gods, I hope so," he managed against her lips - just before claiming them again.

 **( HEY! SO THAT DISCLAIMER TOTALLY STARTS HERE. This story is rated T, but the following scene is definitely M territory for sexual content. If you wish to avoid this, skip forward to the next similar bold underlined interjection. Thank you!)**

Before he knew it, she had unbuttoned the clasps of his cloak and shoved it from his bare shoulders. He dove his hands beneath her shirt, splaying his fingers wide against the smooth skin of her back as it curved into him, serpentine, lithe and lean and perfectly alluring. He somehow managed to tear his lips from hers and slide them down onto her throat. She had the most lovely neck; for whatever reason, it was one of his favorite things about her figure, and there was had been so many times when he'd wondered what it would be like to do exactly this, to feel her throat work beneath his mouth, to taste her pulse. The one time before he'd tried, forever ago on Thoda Island, only served to pique his interest further and did literally nothing in the way of whetting his appetite for more.

He'd seen completely through the underworld darkness that had clouded her eyes there. He saw her at her absolute lowest - when her essence, everything he both vehemently admired and found unbelievably frustrating, had barely been there at all. And she'd fought her way back, though darkness he couldn't begin to imagine.

Her inner strength overwhelmed him. She was _fire_ , a blazing, fearless passion - but she had still been merely a dream back then. A dream he most definitely _wanted_ , but hadn't been ready for. If the Chosen hadn't picked that exact dumb-luck moment to show up, he probably wouldn't be here right now, listening to Sara's harsh exhales, feeling her demanding fingers work at the middle seam to his tunic. He finished what she'd started and tore it from his torso without ever letting his lips leave her throat. The only light in the room came from a lantern on the nightstand beside the bed; its flames cast flickering, immaculate shadows across his skin and the hardened muscles it sheathed.

"Oh, shit," she was panting, and her hands in his hair had started to tremble, as had the breath in her chest. "Oh, gods, Kratos, I can't breathe-" And she raised his mouth to hers again, a crushing kiss broken momentarily by the pull of her shirt over her head. She kept gliding her palms across his bare chest and collarbones in sensuous, worshipful caresses. It incensed his already pyroclastic blood. Finally, he stripped off his gloves.

He pulled his head away from hers. And he looked at her, into her tense face and her endless earthen eyes, his thumbs ghosting delicately across her freckled cheeks and over the edge of her bottom lip.

"Come to bed with me," he rumbled, a deep, licentious whisper. And he tacked on her name at the end, the loudest word, because he felt like he should.

It looked like she wanted to say something back but she never did. So she nodded instead. And they crossed the room, and he ended up on his back on the mattress, with her knees pressed into the blankets on either side of his hips.

He kept his hands on her ribs, a sensual barometer. She felt rigid, nervous - which was kind of preposterous, because her lucent candor about her previous love life meant she had plenty of experience in this area. He was a little nervous too, impossibly - _nothing_ made Kratos nervous, and she knew that. Which made her _more_ nervous.

Her lethal fingers curled into the sheets beside his ears. Strands of her flamelike hair touched his chin. He stared up at her in wonderment, his red-tinted eyes wide. She held her breath: one final, maddening, and impossibly perfect request for permission.

Even now, she waited. Even now, when they were half-naked and passion-drunk on his bed, she waited. And Kratos melted inside all over again.

He breathed her name. Her jaw tensed, stretching her delicious neck, and her ribs shuddered. He unbuckled both belts at his waist. And in a few indelible seconds he joined with her, sliding exquisitely into her core. She collapsed against his chest, her forehead pressing into the crook of his neck, and both of her hands gripping, biting into his shoulders.

" _You_ ," she gasped. "Oh, Kratos, you're _so_ _good_ -"

His head craned back. His mouth hung open as his eyes slammed closed. He was entirely inclined to return the compliment, but found only air in his vapid throat, bereft of words. Instead, he clamped his hands on her hips and guided her into motion - slow, magnificent, lustrous.

Sara found this frustrating. She was fierce and impatient, and he wouldn't change her for anything - but if she kept her intended pace things would peak far too soon. And he didn't want this to end quickly. _Never_ , really, if he got his way. She kissed him again; her teeth tore gently, persistently at his lower lip, and her fingernails bit into his jaw.

" _Easy_ ," he commanded. "Breathe for me, my love."

He hadn't meant to call her that. Really, he hadn't. It just kind of _happened_ , much like everything else had tonight. But now that the words had left his lips, he found them incredibly appropriate and never thought once about undoing them.

She listened, again. Her movements slowed. Her breaths calmed. She stared hard into his cinnamon eyes, her lips parted, her hair swaying.

"Please say that again," she said quietly.

"My love," he echoed, melting, drowning unstoppably. He slid his long fingers gently into her hair and kissed her again, deliberately. Lovingly, and with all the tenderness he could impart. "...I do not deserve you."

"Shut up." She sank into the mattress, drawing him deep inside of her, swallowing his gasp. "...You're the only one who ever has."

And then she dropped her lips to his chest. She kissed gently from the middle of his sternum, over his collarbones and up his neck. All the while, her hips performed small, magical circles against him that stole his breath. He tilted his jaw, extending his vulnerable throat, encouraging her exploration.

That had probably been difficult for her to say. Resilient and hard-headed, Sara didn't _need_ anyone. She didn't waste any time pining over what could've been or what hadn't worked in her past - but loneliness just _hurt_ after awhile. It buzzed and hovered ominously, darting and stinging at its whim, no matter how furiously it was swatted away. And Kratos, perhaps, knew this better than anyone.

He sat up slowly. One arm braced behind him while the other wrapped around her waist, keeping her marvelously anchored to his hips. She watched him carefully as he guided her to her back, beneath him. She tensed, for just an instant - in _any_ fashion, not being in control made her extremely wary, as he knew very well - but he felt it, and smoothed it away with a brush of his lips across her temple.

"Then I am yours," he vowed.

She let him take her. She made no move in the contrary, no struggle to top him again, and matched him equally in force and urgency. Sometimes, she would teeter right on the edge of either tears of violence - after all, her hands were largely used for battle, and she had incredibly, _impossibly_ strong fingers - but he always knew, and always guided her back to him. He wasn't sure how he managed to breathe, because his mouth was either always on hers or some part of her delectable dark skin. When she came, she said his name, every time - _every_ time - and he loved the sound of it with more voracity than he ever thought possible, like her tongue had been made for it alone.

He wanted to let her end him. He started to move, to bring her back on top, but her arms around him tugged him back down.

"Don't stop, Kratos," she ordered. That was perfectly fine with him. He nodded against her throat.

He said her name, too - growled, really, in a low rumble that ended with a perfect, breathless moan. After banal yet necessary assurance that she was properly protected, he finished deep within her, his eyes pressed closed, his angled face half-hidden by chaotic burgundy bangs and exquisitely strained.

 **SAFE ZONE REACHED! YAYYYY** **SAFE ZONE REACHED! YAYYYY SAFE ZONE REACHED YAYYYY**

 **NO MORE SHENANIGANS! NO MORE SHENANIGANS! NO MORE SHENANIGANS! (THAT WORD LOOKS WEIRD NOW)**

Sara lapped up every glorious second. Kratos was _unbelievably_ beautiful. She'd wanted for the longest time to know what he looked like in this moment, that mask of frigidity melted away, all control and reason tossed aside, and it outdid her wildest imagination.

When he returned to the earth, she immediately kissed him once more in appreciation.

"You're not real," she muttered into his mouth.

It was just a few twitches of his broad chest, but he _laughed_. And, almost embarrassed, he muffled it against her shoulder, as if suddenly aware of how strange it was. "I certainly hope I am. Otherwise this is the most vivid hallucination I've ever experienced."

"'Vivid' is right," she agreed, threading her hands into his hair when his head relaxed against her chest. "Holy shit."

"Always so eloquent," he mumbled, his fingertips tracing teasing lines across her chest and shoulder. His right ear rested just over her heart; it beat divinely, a heavenly, reassuring thrum. She tried to curse him again but it came out as a hiss and arch of her back.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked softly.

His wandering fingers stilled, but he didn't raise his head. "If you wish."

"When did you first know?"

"Know what?"

"How you felt. About me. About… us." Because 'us' was a noun that had meaning now. It made him just a little weird, a little uncomfortable - but most importantly, it made him smile.

He stayed silent for a little while. But he knew the answer. It stood out starkly in his thoughts, a pinprick of light among layers of darkness. He closed his eyes.

"Palmacosta," he admitted, listening to her breathe. "A boy. And a toy dragon."

"Oh." She pursed her lips as her fingertips massaged the back of his neck. "Really? I was just doing what I thought I had to."

"I know. That's why."

* * *

A/N:

You have now finished reading my favorite chapter of all :) Thank you! I would really appreciate reviews on this chapter in particular, given its contents and emotional significance to both Kratos and Sara. It was a long, frustrating battle to bring the two of them together - but grief doesn't make this kind of thing easy in real life, so it wouldn't in this story, either.

Lyrics at the beginning are from "Switching Off" by Elbow.

Thanks for reading!


	29. Duo (Both)

Chapter Twenty-nine

 _Duo_

* * *

Two hours later, he woke up to Sara's hands crushing his neck.

The storm outside blazed, roaring and slashing against the wet windows. Beside the bed, the lantern's light dimmed, barely-there. Its flame burned jet-black as it licked and clawed at the air. Her shoulders were hunched and her arms quivering, tensed. He could hardly breathe. His eyes flew open wide, searching desperately for hers, though they were shadowed, darker than dark.

She was _gone_. Each of her exhales ended in a malevolent, inhuman growl. He could see her gritted teeth; her canines had punched out and over her lips. Shadows sluiced along her back, between her shoulders and each flank, forming curved, wicked, diaphanous spines.

He wrapped his hands around her wrists. Not to remove them, but tenderly, as a comforting caress. Seeing as how she was currently attempting to strangle the life out of him, this took concentration. He swallowed; his larynx worked beneath her thumbs, and he forced out: "Breathe for me."

She did. The shifting, shimmering air around her frame fractured for a moment - then returned. The effervescent spines jutting from her back flickered. And she took in a lungful of air.

"Good," he said, a bit easier this time, with a forced adjustment of his jaw against the edge of her palm. Her grip softened slightly. He ran his hands slowly, carefully up her arms. "Again, my love. Please."

It took awhile. He watched her intently; each of his hands now rested on her shoulders, ready to overthrow her and pin her down at the slightest signal - though he was sure he wouldn't need to. Her head twitched. Light blossomed in her dead eyes, a faint burst of life that faded as quickly as it had appeared. But he knew.

"There you are." He didn't try to fight back. He slid one hand up, gliding his fingers in her pumpkin hair, passing them through her smoke-like spines. They vanished. He kissed the inside of her arm. It was still difficult to speak, but he did anyway:

"I see you, Sara. Come to me."

Slowly, bit by bit, she let him go. The process seemed to be 50/50; either she came back all at once, like a crack of lightning, or her consciousness returned gradually, drop by drop. This time, unfortunately for Kratos' neck, was the latter.

She blinked several times. The ebony candle filled once again with earthly, bright warmth. Its renewed light hit her face just as her eyes cleared, a royal, untarnished chestnut brown. All the while she breathed, deliberate, haunted scrapes in and out of her lungs.

The livid red marks on his neck were just starting to fade when she saw them. Her jaw dropped. She held one hand to her gaping mouth before bringing it in front of her eyes and staring at it in horror.

"Don't," he cut in, when she'd started to speak. He swept his thumbs back and forth across her cheeks. "I'm alright, and so are you. Relax, Sara."

She sank to his chest. He kept his hands in her hair and at the back of her neck, a physical, necessary anchor. She was shaking; it wasn't from the cold, but he drew the blankets up over them anyway. A few of her fingers pressed against his jaw, forcing it to tilt up, and she exhaled a labored, watery sigh before carefully kissing his neck. Over and over, from one side to the other, in some attempt to replace pain with kindness.

"This is why," she said, planting her final kiss, "I always sleep alone."

He turned onto his side, guiding her with him. Her leg hooked up and over his hip, pulling him flush against her. The feel of her skin on his was still new and beautiful. He took her hands, and brought them to his face where he pressed his lips into each of her palms.

"I have a suggestion," he offered, his eyes flicking to hers, watching them widen with interest.

"Wh… what?"

He turned both hands over, now, and kissed the back of them, just beside each precious Exsphere.

"Mittens," he muttered.

" _What_?"

"I would imagine," he continued, in between each kiss, "the act of strangulation would be impossible if the aggressor were wearing mittens."

"You would _'imagine_ ,'" Sara echoed, smirking wryly with half her mouth. How could one person be so simultaneously eloquent and _awkward_? "Just come out with it, Kratos. You've got a mitten fetish."

She could feel his warm, soft laugh against her palm. "Hmm, yes. But only when worn by violent women trying to choke me."

"You sick bastard."

"The _worst_."

Her smile - half-shadowed, all exhausted - was magnificent to witness. He was simply unable to _not_ kiss her again (he could _do_ that now, he had to keep reminding himself). She clutched his face to hers, needfully. And she was very, _very_ careful not to touch his neck.

Kratos noticed this, above all else. So he took her hands and pressed them against his throat.

She whipped her head back, petrified, but he followed her with his lips. She moaned muffled protests into his mouth and kept trying to tug her hands away. But he wouldn't let her.

"Stop," he demanded. And it was just that: an order that could and _would not_ be disobeyed. She stilled, and he stared hard into her eyes. "Don't be afraid. I will never be."

And at that, she came undone - bursting to life, like a wildfire catching the wind. She made love to him hungrily, using his body and the feel of his skin sliding along hers to set aglow the last echoes of darkness in her head. There were few things in life that made him so deliciously powerless; his hands ran reverently along her thin, writhing stomach, over her chest and up into her hair. He didn't try to calm her this time, or ask her to slow down. It was scalding and sharp, devastatingly passionate - and his own back strained up off of the mattress when he came within her, shuddering, gasping, riding out a shattering climax that nearly rendered him unconscious.

Alright, so… he _might_ let her have her way more often.

She tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder when she laid back down beside him. Beneath the silky blankets, one of her legs tangled with his, and her fingers ran absently along the muscles of his chest and arm. The feeling was light, barely-there and almost ticklish.

"Thank you," she mumbled. "I'm always saying that to you. Thank you."

She started to get up and slide her legs off the bed. His hand darted out to grasp hers. "Stay."

Sara gaped at him. "Are you _crazy_?"

"Undoubtedly." He slid his fingers between hers and squeezed. "Stay."

"I…" She frowned, and her free hand fidgeted idly with the covers. "I don't want to hurt you again."

"You didn't," Kratos assured flatly. "Trust me."

She looked back at him and quirked one thin, inquisitive eyebrow. In proof, he tilted his jaw and leaned into the light - those nail and fingermarks were completely gone, leaving only flawless, inviting ivory skin stretched over the lithe hollows of his throat.

She blinked. "Magic?"

He shrugged, and scratched the back of his head absently - it was such a comfortable, _normal_ gesture that she'd never seen him make, and it made exquisite bubbles billow through her chest. She bit her bottom lip and smiled.

"Something like that," he muttered.

Still smiling. Grinning, now. "Fair enough."

His arms curled around her as she returned to them. She laid down on her side, facing away from him, so that he could meld his front with her back and place tiny, perfect kisses all along her shoulder and neck. He drew the covers up over them both.

"If this happens again," she said, "I'm not sorry."

"Neither am I."

* * *

Lloyd woke up to a small hand gently prodding at his arm. He yawned, and squinted as he opened his eyes to the new morning sun that streaked lazily through the small room's hazy window. He sat up and turned to face the owner of the prodding hand - Colette sat beside him, and she was smiling and gesturing over one shoulder, to the opposite window.

And to the huge plume of black smoke that hung in the sky beyond.

He grinned and leaped out of bed. "They did it!"

Colette nodded. She stood, and began heading to the door; Lloyd glanced around, and noticed the others had already gone downstairs. He quickly gathered his things and followed after Colette, his steps excited and rushed.

The day was _perfect -_ a bright, flawlessly-blue sky (except for the streak of smoke, obviously), pleasant temperature, slight breeze. It made the two-mile return trip to Kozei that much more agreeable; clearly, Kratos and Sara had succeeded in destroying the ranch, but the fate of its captives and the village itself was still a mystery. Although Lloyd had little doubt that they had succeeded in that, too.

When they arrived, no Desians greeted them this time. And Colette wasn't the only one who could hear dragons now - their grunts and growls were numerous and obvious beyond the surrounding walls. Every now and then, the tip of a horn or wing would breach the top edge.

"It looks like they got most of the dragons back," Sheena said, as they all paused beneath the wooden trellis at the village's entrance.

Raine wrinkled her nose. "It smells like it, too."

Lloyd strode forward, beaming. "Let's go look."

Life had begun to bloom here again - last night, a sense of fear and despair made everything feel strangled. The Desians had been everywhere, a constant reminder that the slightest stray word or misconstrued glance could result in punishment. But today, the villagers walked freely - pushing carts full of food and supplies, rebuilding fences, restoring what the Desians had deconstructed or destroyed entirely.

Colette exhaled a joyful breath, in place of her voice. Sheena darted forward to help a man pushing a laden wheelbarrow - he hit a small bump in the ground, and the supplies in his cart jarred and began to spill over. Swiftly, and with ease, Sheena righted his path and picked up what he'd dropped. The man smiled at her and nodded his thanks. She smiled, too, feeling wonderful and useful for the first time in a long while.

Now that Garon was back, the dragon deserved a proper pen. Kane had begun repairing it since dawn. It felt good, to return to his original purpose; dragons didn't _need_ a pen, really, considering they could ram it down or fly over it with ease. But after training, and a few months of guidance, the pen meant trust. It meant a necessary understanding between human and beast; in the last month, when Kane had feared solely for his family's safety, this simple fact had gone unnoticed. And the pen had diminished into broken boards and crooked wood.

But this morning was different. This morning, Kane straightened his back, dragged his forearm across his brow, and threw his hammer against an onslaught of nails. Garon was still rather exhausted, and paid no mind to the newcomers whatsoever. His belly and head rested undisturbed on the ground, which was slightly less dusty now, after last night's storm. A parade passed by, of red, holy white, lavender, cloud blue and sepia brown… Kane didn't know their names, or why they were here at all, really - only that he'd seen them yesterday, with Sara, which was enough for his stomach to clench and the back of his neck to tighten.

The one in red approached him. He looked young, and full of a certain innocent hope that Kane admired as much as he found frustrating.

"Hey, you got your dragon back."

Kane nodded stiffly. "...Yes. Many of us did."

A woman approached, now. With silver hair, and burnt-orange robes, and clever indigo eyes. "Can you tell us where our companions are?"

Meaning, _her_.

"Keep walking," Kane said tersely, gesturing his head to the left. Garon grumbled sleepily; he tossed the beast a handful of dried meat. "The graveyard isn't far. When you leave, take her with you."

* * *

All four of their graves had been purposefully placed beside one another.

Kane had likely overseen their burials. It took planning and agreed-upon arrangements to bury anyone, much less the mayor, and Kane's well-known mother-in-law. Kozei was small and fundamental, and had deep-rooted traditions for many things - especially honoring the dead.

The village had a practice of stacking stones on top of one another at the base of each grave. It didn't have to be perfect, and it never would; most days, due to the wind or the errant steps of dragons, the stones would topple over into a disorganized mess.

But the intention was to remind those who had passed of the will of the living, of the desire to remember. Perfection was unnecessary. Every day, by whoever's hand, these stones would be rearranged in a column. As if to say, in a physical, earthly reminder: 'I thought about you today.'

This morning, under the new dawn's light - the privilege was Sara's.

She knelt before them on one knee. Slowly, one by one, she picked up each stone. Palm-sized, smooth. Impossibly heavy. And though the ground was a bit uneven, and her hands rather shaky, she stacked them deliberately, with fierce, unwavering attention. Tana first. Then Mikhail. Then Suka, and lastly, with the most care, Kane's father.

The cemetery had just one entrance, flanked by a pair of wooden posts and a simple trellis. Kratos waited beneath it, his shoulder leaning casually against one side. He watched her intently, and made a point to stay directly behind her at all times, out of her peripheral vision, to avoid distracting her.

He heard footsteps approaching, suddenly, and peered back over one shoulder to see their source. Lloyd and the others had found them. The teen was in the lead, with Colette and Sheena behind him, then Raine and her brother, who still had a look of dark hesitance on his young face.

Lloyd looked confused for a second, but then his gaze found Sara. He opened his mouth to say a greeting, and started to walk towards her - but Kratos immediately threw out one arm and blocked his path. The mercenary slowly shook his head and motioned for Lloyd to stay put.

So he did. They all did, for a few minutes more, until she eventually rose to her feet and turned to face them. She wasn't looking at anyone. She probably couldn't. But she walked forward, and stopped squarely between Lloyd and Kratos, who both heard her inhale deliberately.

"We're done here." She raised her head a little, and finally looked at Colette, who blinked back at her with wide sapphire eyes. Sara took the girl's hand and held it tight. "I'm sorry for making you wait so long."

The Chosen smiled sheepishly, and her pale face flashed several shades of crimson. Sara squeezed her hand once before letting go, careful not to grip too tight - but it occurred to her only after the fact, and in a frigid wave, that Colette couldn't feel any of it.

"I'm sorry," Sara repeated. "Let's go find out how to make you better, okay?"

"I spent much of last night researching Master Boltzman's healing technique," Raine offered. "It calls for a few herbs only found in this area. I collected them earlier this morning. Our detour was worthwhile."

Sara's tense shoulders relaxed. She smiled, though it was crooked and ghostly. "Good."

They left Kozei. Each step felt like she were striding through heavy, obstinate mud. Lloyd led them, as usual, with the Chosen by his side. Sara was last. Passing through the village's entrance felt like tearing out her lungs. A hand found hers, though, with light-blue gloves and long, callused fingers. It coaxed her shaking fist away, so that those fingers could slide between hers. The contact was fleeting and unnoticed to anyone but the two of them, but didn't lessen its value in the slightest.

* * *

This lake was _pretty_. And the trees surrounding it were worthy of a painting, and the air was crisp and clean. There was literally nothing about Lake Umacy that the average person shouldn't like - but as the Chosen's group came closer, Sheena felt a weight press against her shoulders, crushing her steadily into the ground. Now that they'd arrived, it felt difficult for her to remain standing at all. Yeah, she'd made the Seal of Water pact successfully, and as a result, the rest _technically_ shouldn't be a problem…

"Okay, go on, Sheena!" Lloyd was saying. With that simple grin on his entirely too appealing, adorable face. "Ask Undine to take us all over there."  
She just had to summon Undine. No big deal, right? Colette was staring at her too, of course, which made the matter all the more pressing, since Sheena was literally the only one of them who could make this happen-

"Wait," Kratos said abruptly. "That's not going to work."

Sheena's unintentionally-held breath burst forth in a giant rush. "What? Why not?"

Raine deliberately cleared her throat. "The Unicorn can only be approached by a pure maiden."

Sheena's jaw clenched. She glanced around at all of them; the Chosen looked completely lost, as did Lloyd, and Genis. Raine had this almost hilarious frown on her slender face. Kratos was a steadfast, cement wall. Sara had her back leaned against a tree with one half of her mouth pulled into a cynical smirk.

"At the very least," Kratos continued, "Lloyd, Genis, Sara and I are out."

Lloyd scowled. "He's pretty picky if he'll only talk to girls…" He paused. The mercenary's words bounced around in his head. He quirked an eyebrow at Kratos. "Wait. Why'd you mention Sara?"

Speaking of the pumpkin-haired woman, her smirk vanished. An embroiled glare had replaced it, directed laser-like at Kratos. "Uh, well-"

"That's not important," Kratos ground out, pointedly ignoring all of them. It might've been Lloyd's imagination, but he could've sworn the mercenary's hair pricked just a little more, and those muscles of his jaw stood out just a _bit_ more starkly… "It's up to Raine, Colette and Sheena," Kratos finished factually.

"I'll pass," Raine said instantly. Lloyd wanted to ask why, and exactly _why_ everyone was being so _weird,_ but the Professor kept speaking before he could: "But I don't know what we're going to do. We can't send Colette alone while she's like this."

"Hey," Sheena shouted instantly. "I'm not like _Sara!_ Are you saying I'm not qualified?"

Lloyd and Genis blinked in unison. "'Qualified'?"

Death was preferable to reality now, clearly. Sheena swallowed hard. "You don't have to both say it at once!"

A sharp _snikt_ sliced through the still air. The tree Sara had been reclining against cast her in ominous shade. She purposefully flexed her claws, one by one. "' _Not like Sara?'_ Remind me again why I let you live this long, Sheena?"

"Um, heh-"

"Then we shall send Colette and Sheena," Kratos announced.

Lloyd kept glancing around at them all, completely baffled. "Why can't the Professor or Sara go?"

"Because I'm an adult," Raine stated firmly.

"Yeah," Sara agreed. " _Adults_ , Lloyd."

"Hmm?"

Sheena strode towards the water, a bit surprised that the heat from her face hadn't boiled it away entirely. "O-okay, then. I'm going to summon now!"

And that was that. She began drawing the world's mana into her palms, up her arms and through her chest, little by little. Lloyd, Genis and Colette watched this in awe, noting the peculiar blue sparks that hovered between each of Sheena's fingers and seemed to coat her frame in a shimmering cyan light. Raine kept staring curiously at Sara, who had sidled up to the living statue that was Kratos. The Professor heard only one hushed, raspy word from Sara's mouth:

"Really? _Really?"_

Sheena kept speaking, using the meager courage hidden in the chambers of her heart to continue: "I call upon the Maiden of the Mist. I summon thee; come, Undine!"

The air seemed to thicken and gather moisture, as if a raincloud had sprung to life before them. There was a bright flash, and a burst of fog - and Undine appeared, hovering just atop the water, her long cerulean hair swaying, and her matching dress twitching, raining crystalline, constant drops.

"Please, Undine," Sheena managed, pointing to the submerged silhouette of the Unicorn. "We want to speak with the Unicorn."

"As you wish," the Summon Spirit acquiesced.

The water stirred. Those broken branches that had been crossed over the Unicorn's frame lifted and shoved themselves out of the way. Around the creature's frame, that bubble of air shifted and shimmered, until it met with the surface of the lake and vanished entirely.

The Unicorn's eyes opened. They were an ancient, otherworldly black. Hovering inches overtop the surface of the lake, the Unicorn shook his mane - a quick twitch of silver fur, tinted just the perfect shade of emerald green. It fell in thick locks around the gleaming horn that stretched heavenward from between his flickering ears. His hooves were a shining gold that drank in the midafternoon sun. As if suddenly aware of his freedom, he reared back on powerful, lithe hind legs and pawed the summer air.

Sheena hadn't been quite sure of what would happen now. If she would just kind of _appear_ before the creature, or if she would walk, or if Undine would carry them herself. It seemed to be a strange combination of all three - she and Colette simply skated across the surface of the water, and stood a few feet before the gorgeous, patient beast, whose tuffed tail swayed gently from side to side.

 _Martel?_

The Unicorn hadn't _spoken,_ really. It clearly didn't have a human mouth or tongue, but the voice that echoed in Sheena's head was undeniably recognizable. She glanced instantly at the Chosen, for some kind of desperate reassurance that she hadn't been the only one to hear this. Colette gaped back at her, which was all Sheena needed to know she wasn't alone.

Sunlight suddenly burst through the clouds; the Unicorn's fur looked like liquid diamond, atop a pristine coating of the purest silver. Colette opened her mouth but closed it a moment later. It took Sheena herself a few seconds to remember that she could speak:

"Martel? You mean the Goddess Martel?"

The Unicorn's haunches shivered. He breathed out, long and slow, through flared, velvet-soft nostrils. _No? You are Colette. And the one beside you is called Sheena._

"You…" Sheena stammered, her heart flailing. "You can hear Colette's voice?"

 _Yes._ He strode forward, those golden hooves causing impossible, gentle ripples in the lake's sublime surface. _But you are not Martel? This presence, this mana, and this sickness-_

Colette felt paralyzed. The Unicorn was nearly twice as tall as her, and twice as broad; she'd never really realized this mythical beast could be simultaneously so intimidating and awe-inspiring. Its sable eyes seemed to peer directly into her soul, although she had the distinct feeling that they could see nothing at all-

 _Even in my blindness,_ _it is clear: you are Martel._

Colette had gotten used to her silence. But right now, in the face of this gleaming fur, and that perfect, heavenly horn, she wished with all her might that she could speak. To describe precisely how much she agreed, and more importantly, to ask how this creature _knew_.

 _I exist to save the awakened Martel from her sickness,_ _to cure the sickness you and the others have._

"Then, please," Sheena began, "save Colette. The horn of a Unicorn has that kind of power, right?"

Colette lowered her head. She looked down at her feet as they hovered impossibly over the water, at what had once been the holy white of her boots - but what was now a dirtied, smudged kind of grey. She smiled a little, realizing how she herself had undergone a similar transformation, from something new and untarnished to a silent, scarred statue.

 _You are here not for yourself,_ the Unicorn continued, _but to save a human with whom you have made a promise?_

Colette nodded. She remembered a basement in Palmacosta, and a man's dying words, and a woman who had become a monster-

 _So that's it. You're the Chosen of Regeneration._

The Chosen held her breath. Flawless, ocean-blue eyes met jet-black, and held there indelibly, for several silent, heavy seconds.

 _Take it._

The Unicorn lowered his head. The very tip of his horn began glowing. Without realizing what she was doing at all, Colette held out both her hands, her jaw tilted up, her lips parted in silent reverence. In a few seconds, the horn itself somehow detached perfectly from the creature's forehead, and now settled easily into her palms. The horn was so long, and felt impossibly warm; it seemed to hum against her skin.

Though the Unicorn didn't smile, exactly, something in his eyes and face seemed to do so, anyway. He tilted his head to the sky, and breathed in a giant, pristine lungful of clean air; just as he did so, he began to vanish. From the tips of his golden hooves, to the ends of his pale green mane, he simply started to fade away.

"Wh-what's wrong?" Sheena choked.

 _Our horns are our very lives,_ the Unicorn stated simply. Like it was no big deal. Like Sheena shouldn't have started to tear up, or question this decision at all,

 _My destiny is now fulfilled. Do not be troubled._ _A new life will be born from me. And when that new life ends, yet another will be born._

Colette wanted to cry. Sheena was, and it hurt that she couldn't. So she just gripped that sparkling, priceless horn in her tiny palms and nodded.

 _In so doing,_ the Unicorn concluded, _we live on forever._

And he vanished. As if he'd never existed at all. Undine returned them to the shore, where Colette stood silently, staring at the object in her hands. Sheena couldn't look at any of them, and kept trying to choke down the tears that strained her throat.

"Are you two all right?" Lloyd asked, equal parts curious and worried.

Sara stepped towards them. She had one hand clasped against her chest, over her heart. "Sheena, are you crying?"

No. Not at _all_ , dammit. "The Unicorn gave us his horn."

Sara closed her eyes. They opened a few seconds later, as she drew in a necessary breath. "Then the Unicorn is dead."

Sheena's jaw dropped. Her hands flew out to her sides, where they crunched into indignant fists. "You knew?!"

"When a Unicorn loses its horn, it dies," Sara continued factually. She started to smile. "By dying, a new Unicorn is born. That's why the Unicorn is a symbol of death and rebirth."

Sheena didn't know why Sara was smiling. Only that it seemed both completely inappropriate and utterly necessary. Her throat worked uselessly for what felt like forever, until she managed, "A new Unicorn will be born?"

"Yes," Sara assured. "I'm sure one has been, somewhere."

Lloyd turned to Colette, and the artifact resting securely in her palms. "The Unicorn gave us this horn at the cost of his life. We need to make good use of it."

The Chosen clearly wanted to say something, but her hands were full of the Unicorn's gift; Raine took it from her, so that Colette could draw her first finger across Lloyd's palm:

"I still haven't finished… regenerating the world. So please… use this… for Clara - _what?"_

Colette tightened her fingers around his hand. She smiled brilliantly; an errant breeze swayed her flaxen hair.

"Alright," Lloyd muttered. Though it was forced, and made him sick. "If that's what you want."

 _Thank you,_ the Chosen mouthed. Like he'd done her a favor. Never before had listening to someone felt so heavy and wrong. He sighed and looked away.

"Let's rest here for tonight," Raine began. "In the morning, we can decide where to head from here."

* * *

Dinner was made, in such normal tradition - they usually took turns, and this time just happened to fall upon Genis, who cooked up a nearly mythical tenderloin. With just the right amount of onion and spices, and even a few vegetables to accompany the main course. "This is your best yet," Lloyd had said, before scooping another forkful into his mouth. Genis flooded with pride, and made a point to remember this recipe for later, since it had apparently gone over so well. Even Kratos had grunted his approval.

Raine had her precious book splayed out on her lap, with Genis beside her, peering curiously at its dusty pages. Noishe had found them once again, and laid curled up in a ball beside Kratos, sleeping soundly. Even now and then the creature's paws would twitch excitedly, as if furiously chasing after something in his dream. Sara was on Kratos' other side, sitting crosslegged as she cleaned and polished her claws for probably the thousandth time. Sheena watched them for a few moments; it might have been her imagination, but she could've sworn that the mercenary was behaving a little differently around Sara, like he'd recently become more comfortable, more at ease. They were idly talking about something; Sheena couldn't make out what, exactly, but Kratos' normally steely voice sounded softer when he spoke to her, and every now and then Sara would look up at him and he'd actually _smile_ a little.

Colette sat beside Lloyd, who was glaring into the stars like they'd just insulted him. He looked like he had a billion things he wanted to say to the blonde girl, but his furrowed brow and clenched jaw kept him silent.

Slowly, Sheena took in a breath and stood up. "...Everyone. I have something to say."

The idle chatter stopped. Raine lifted her head from the book; Lloyd blurted: "Huh?"

Sheena really couldn't believe she was doing this, but there was no stopping now. "I want to explain to everyone why I was trying to assassinate the Chosen."

"All right," Raine said smoothly. "We're listening. Tell us about your homeland. A land that doesn't exist in this world."

Sheena's jaw dropped. Sara's eyes thinned and she held up one hesitant finger. "Uh, what?"

"You knew?!" Sheena croaked, which was really only the first of the infinite questions that now sizzled through her thoughts.

"No," Raine continued calmly. "But you said it yourself before, that _Sylvarant_ will be saved. That must mean you aren't from Sylvarant."

Oh. Well, okay, that made sense. "You're right. My homeland is not here, not in Sylvarant."

Genis blinked. "What does that mean?"

"My world is called Tethe'alla."

"Tethe'alla?" Lloyd echoed, his face scrunched in confusion. "You mean the moon?"

Sheena breathed a laugh. "Of course not. My world isn't on the moon."

"Then, uh…" Sara's head cocked to one side. "Yeah, _what_?"

"Even I really don't understand the specifics," Sheena went on, peering up at the sky. "But there is another world that lies entwined with Sylvarant, as shadow is to light. That's Tethe'alla, my world."

"Two entwined worlds?" Raine muttered thoughtfully.

"The two worlds like directly adjacent to each other. They just can't see one another. Our scholars say they exist on shifted dimensions."

Sara had been sipping on a cup of hot cocoa. She frowned down at it, then frowned harder at Kratos. "...Did you put something in this?"

"Anyway, the two worlds can't see or touch each other, but they do in fact exist next to and affect each other."

"What do you mean, 'affect each other'?" Lloyd asked.

"They vie for the supply of mana," Sheena explained. "When one world weakens, the mana from that world flows to the other. As a result, one world is always flourishing, and the other waning. Sort of like an hourglass."

That was just about the stupidest, most backwards thing Lloyd had ever heard. Why would there be a system like that? A system where one half was always suffering? "Wait, so right now, Sylvarant is-"

"Yeah," Sheena nodded. "Sylvarant's mana is flowing to Tethe'alla. Therefore, Sylvarant is in decline. If there is no mana, the Summon Spirits that protect the world alongside the Goddess Martel can't survive in Sylvarant, either. As a result, the world slips even further down the path of destruction."

Noishe raised his head and yawned, his giant ears perking up a bit. Raine held one hand pensively to her chin. "Then the Chosen's world regeneration is actually the process of reversing the mana flow?"

"Exactly," Sheena affirmed. "When the Chosen breaks a seal, the mana flow reverses, and the Summon Spirit that governs the seal awakens. I was sent to prevent the world regeneration from happening." Lloyd was looking at her very intently; it made her a little nervous, but she kept resolutely going. "I broke through the supposedly impassable dimensional fissure for the sake of protecting Tethe'alla."

"In other words," Lloyd said deliberately, "to assure the decline and destruction of Sylvarant?"

Sheena's lips pressed together in a thin line. "You can say that, but your journey of regeneration is also an attempt to destroy Tethe'alla. We're both doing the same thing."

"Wait a minute," Sara grumbled. "How do you know all of this? How do we know you're not just making this up?"

Sheena pressed one hand to her chest. "I'm the proof. I possess summoning arts that have been lost from this world."

Colette opened her mouth. Her delicate face looked strained, upset.

"Please don't look at me like that, Colette," Sheena mumbled, dropping her gaze to the ground. "I know hurting anyone wasn't your intention. I… I don't know what I should do, either." She held one hand out to her side. "I came here to protect Tethe'alla, but this world is impoverished and everyone is suffering." Then, the other. "But if I allow the world regeneration to occur, then Tethe'alla will become just like this."

"But right now you're helping us, right?" Genis asked timidly.

"Yes, but…" She released an exasperated sigh. "That doesn't mean I can just abandon Tethe'alla! I-I don't know what to do. Isn't there any other way? A way for Sylvarant, Tethe'alla, and Colette to all be happy?"

Lloyd shot to his feet. "I want to know, too."

Raine frowned. "Have you considered that perhaps nothing that convenient exists in the real world?"

Kratos, who until now had been sitting and listening silently, now spoke up: "The best thing we can do right now is to save Sylvarant from its current crisis."

Lloyd turned to him, hopeful. "What if we don't regenerate the world and just defeat the Desians?"

The mercenary shook his head slowly. "Although we succeeded in destroying a ranch, we cannot possibly eliminate _all_ the Desians. And the mana will eventually be exhausted."

Lloyd had been staring dejectedly at his boots when Colette suddenly took his hand. He watched the tip of her finger write invisible lines against his palm. "'I'll try asking Remiel… if there's a way… to save the two worlds.'"

The Chosen met Sheena's stern, hazel gaze and smiled a little. But Sheena's slender face gave nothing away. "If it doesn't work out… I may have to kill you after all."

"That's cute," Sara growled, wearing a deadly, appropriately draconian glare. Her hair seemed to bristle like wolf's fur. "Please, try."

Colette kept smiling; Lloyd kept translating. "'When that time comes… I may fight back… because I love… Sylvarant, too.'"

"I understand," Sheena said. A mixture of admiration and guilt made her voice hoarse. "You intend to become an angel, no matter what, don't you?"

The Chosen nodded. She dropped Lloyd's hand, though he hadn't stopped looking at her, his face pulled into a thoughtful frown.

* * *

Predictably, Sheena had trouble sleeping.

What was going to happen tomorrow? Or even in, like, the next _three seconds_? Her future was an open book. She sure as hell didn't have the pen, or even the foresight to write it at all.

Sylvarant's citizens called their moon Tethe'alla - this wasn't reciprocated on her side, at all. No one called their moon Sylvarant. She wondered why. This stupid question skated around her head, keeping her eyes open. Keeping reality as a constant, steady weight against her chest. Maybe if she kept walking, kept staring down at her shuffling feet, and the way they crunched against the dying grass, everything would suddenly make sense, and her purpose would be revealed-

"You're stealing my thunder," someone said suddenly.

Sheena whipped around, her heart thudding, to meet a familiar, unrelenting umber-eyed and freckled gaze. Sara looked simultaneously exhausted and some kind of strangely awake.

"Wh… what?" Sheena managed.

"My brooding, insomniac, mysterious night-dwelling thunder," Sara explained. "You're stealing it. Why can't you sleep?"

One half of Sheena's mouth twinged into a bitter sneer. "Isn't it obvious?"

Sara stopped just beside her. They both stared out over the smooth, glassy lake and into the distant trees. Sheena noticed that the other woman was taller than her - three or four inches, at least - and with longer legs, and broader, tenacious shoulders. They had literally opposite features - Sheena's hair was onyx-black, and her skin a shade of pale ivory. Sara's hair flickered like fire, and her dark skin had clearly spent a lifetime in the sun.

"I don't ever assume anything," Sara said quietly. "Makes me look stupid."

Sheena felt her lungs empty. "...I don't know what I'm doing. With any of this. I'm going to have to go back to my homeland and tell everyone I failed." She paused. Shame coated her tongue and stalled her voice, but she forced it out a moment later, with sheer willpower alone. "No, I didn't just fail - I literally did the _opposite_ of what was expected of me. What I'd sworn to do."

Sara's intense gaze burned holes into the side of Sheena's face. "Why?"

" _Why_?" Sheena repeated, her stomach clenching. She glanced back at the Chosen, who pretended to sleep, her faultless flaxen hair falling in waves of gold over her pillow and bedroll. "I guess it's because… she's just a _person_. She's just trying her best like anyone else, doing what she thinks is right. And I'm in no place to judge someone like that, so… it wasn't as easy as I'd hoped."

Sara smiled. It was a bit creepy, but one of her canine teeth seemed to poke out over her bottom lip, just a _little_ too prominently… "Wanna know something?"

"Uh…" Sheena grimaced. Then hid it in a diffident smile. "Sure."

"When I first met Colette, I was trying to kill her, too." Sara paused. She shrugged. A few of her fingers idly twitched against the hem of her skirt. "Well, not just her. Everyone, really."  
Sheena wanted to gape at her, but she restrained the urge into a slightly more socially-acceptable wide-eyed gaze. "...I didn't know that. Is that what you meant? About the bad things that happened in Kozei?"

"Yeah," Sara agreed. She kept staring at the moon. "As it turns out. I'm something called a demonic vessel. Meaning my mana is particularly tasty to the demons from the underworld." She shuddered; it was barely-there, but just enough for Sheena to notice. "I get eaten by their shadows, and I lose control. I was in the middle of slaughtering my village during one of these lovely demonic rages when Colette and the others showed up and stopped me. Those graves you saw this morning at the cemetery were graves I made."

Oh, well. That… definitely explained a lot.

"She still wanted to help me, though," Sara continued. Her churning voice eased into something kind as she glanced at the Chosen. "She's always wanted to help me. For some stupid reason."

"I… I think I understand," Sheena said. And she shouldn't have. She should've kept her mouth shut, and ignored this whole conversation entirely, but… damn, the promise of actually _relating_ to someone, for the first time ever, kept her speaking. "You didn't mean for it, right? It just kind of happened?"

"Yeah. _Happened_." Sara swallowed hard. "That's… that's a good way to put it."

"Did they… did the villagers… understand? That it wasn't your fault?"

Sara sighed as she shrugged. "I dunno. I didn't try to explain. It didn't matter, anyway."

"How can it not _matter_?" Sheena demanded, gaping. "That's your village, your… your _life_!"

"What mattered was that I knew, finally, that I'd done everything I could to make up for it." Adamant chocolate eyes met unsure, brown-green. "I gave no shits about their opinions after that. My head was clear, and that was most important."

Sheena took in a long, necessary breath. "I… didn't know that was possible. To not care anymore. To not feel… guilty."

The edge of Sara's mouth twitched into a curious smile. She procured her flask, and used the first three fingers of her right hand to remove its cork. "...Something you wanna share, Sheena?"

"Huh? Oh, no. I'm just… talking to myself. Don't worry about it." Now, out of morbid curiosity, Sheena gestured to the object in Sara's hands. "...What's in there?"

"Heh." Sara smiled wider and extended her hand. "Here, try for yourself."

"...Oh." Well, sure. It couldn't have been _that_ bad. Sara was a skilled fighter, who had fought equally with Sheena and against her, so clearly whatever was in this peculiar container could only have positive effects-

Fire. _Fire_ on her tongue, and down her throat, and its fumes darting upwards and clogging her nostrils. Sheena coughed, though she tried futilely to hide it in her forearm. Her eyes watered. "Gah! What-what the- how do you _drink_ that?"

Sara snorted a loud and entirely ungraceful laugh. "You're adorable. It's an acquired taste." Her amused grin sobered. "Kind of like guilt."

Sheena kept wiping at her mouth as she sent Sara a confused, inquisitive stare.

"That sounded a lot more poetic in my head," Sara admitted.

Sheena smiled down at the flask still resting in her hand. "...I liked it."


	30. Domum (Homeward)

Chapter Thirty

 _Domum_

* * *

 _You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve;_

 _I have always buried them deep beneath the ground_

 _Dig them up, let's finish what we've started_

 _Dig them up, so nothing's left untouched_

* * *

 _You're an idiot._

This is what Kratos had kept telling himself since they left Kozei. Constantly, repeatedly. Like the polar opposite of some motivational mantra.

And not just any idiot: a _selfish_ one, who willingly - and at times, _fervently_ \- did what he knew was wrong. Kratos had lost track of the number of mistakes he'd made a very, very long time ago; counting each one would take several lifetimes, surely. But this one was the worst of all.

 _Sara_ was the worst of all.

Because he'd made this exact same mistake before.

And it hadn't ended well, to say the least.

Not that he didn't enjoy their fleeting moments together, or continue to want more of them whenever possible (again: _idiot_ ). But this meant dragging her into something so dangerous, something so much bigger than both of them, and she had absolutely no idea.

Lying by omission was still lying. It was bad enough that _Lloyd_ was already wrapped up in this, but at least he had relatively few ties to Kratos at this point; the mercenary, to Lloyd, was merely a hired blade that just happened to teach him things about combat (and every now and then, life in general). What he didn't know couldn't hurt him. And hopefully, for as long as possible, that would continue to remain true.

Sara, though.

He never should've let her come in his room that night, at the Palmacosta inn. He should've bucked up, held his breath, and told her to leave.

He never should've given her that amulet, or asked about her sister, or taught her fire magic. He never should've started to appreciate the goofy way she laughed, or the pristine brightness of the smile she gave him when they were alone. He shouldn't have kissed her. And he _really_ shouldn't have done everything else that followed.

But, damn it all - he was _so_ glad he did.

Kratos had been trying to come up with a contingency plan for awhile now. How exactly all of this would come to pass; what he would do when it was all over; how many more mistakes he had to make. A lot. That was the only answer he could come up with. And how he could make this work without getting any of them killed.

His jaw hurt from spending too long tightly clenched. He sighed. Their group had paused for the night at an inn just north of the Triet desert. It wasn't exactly close to the Tower of Salvation, but Colette had made a request to see her father and grandmother once more before the end of their journey, and Lloyd had wanted to return home. Not to Iselia, of course, but his actual home in its forest, where Dirk undoubtedly waited for them, hard at work in his shop.

This sigh was enough of a sound to get Sara's attention. She'd been rummaging through her pack for something, and finally pulled out a shiny green apple as she stood and looked at him. They were all a bit windbitten and covered in sand, which she shook from her hair like a wet dog. And damn if his chest didn't tighten at the stupid, endearing way she did that, too.

 _You're an idiot._

"Why are you so grumpy?" She asked, in between apple-bites.

"I'm always grumpy," he retorted factually.

"Well." She pursed her lips. "Grumpi _er._ "

He looked away, towards the distant dunes. "...I'm sorry."

Her eyes widened. "What? Why?"

This was a _terrible_ idea. Going down this road now would only make things unnecessarily worse. But of course, he kept going anyway ( _idiot_ ). Because she deserved honesty:

"I am not who you think I am, Sara."

Her face fell. She blinked at him several times, bewildered. "What the hell does that mean?"

"There is much you do not know about me," he continued quietly, from behind burgundy bangs.

This seemed to simultaneously placate her and incense her further. Though he didn't look directly at her face, he could see enough of her expression to know that she was thinking, that the gears in her head had begun to frantically churn.

At the end of it all, she smiled and shrugged. "Of course there is. And there's a lot you don't know about me, either."

Oh. Well. That was… not at all the response Kratos was expecting. Less yelling, for sure.

"I'd like to get to know you better, though," she said softly. "If that's what you still want."

 _Yes,_ his gut roared.

Common sense demanded quite the opposite. He took in a steeling breath. "There will come a time, soon, when you will learn things about me that are difficult to accept."

And wasn't that the biggest understatement to ever exist. He almost laughed at the sheer, overwhelming amount of his own bullshit.

Hills of it. _Mountains._

The idea of this conversation, he hoped, was to put her on edge. To plant the seed of distrust, and make her question him - so that when the time came, she wouldn't be utterly blindsided. Only _marginally_. Like that was somehow preferable.

But Kratos had no idea what would happen now. If he'd fall under a grand inquisition, or just get passive-aggressive stares for the rest of the night, or-

"I don't care," she said simply.

Finally, his garnet eyes snapped up to hers.

"I don't care about your secrets, Kratos," she went on, strangely delicate and reticent. "I know you, just as you are right now. That's enough for me."

Clearly, she wasn't listening.

Or he was doing just an awful job at conveying exactly how terrible those _secrets_ really were. Probably the latter. Although the former wouldn't surprise him, either; she was very good at being stubborn.

He shook his head. Stray tendrils of orange hair had crossed in front of her eyes. He idly reached out with a few affable fingers and smoothed them away ( _idiot_ ), though he kept scowling gravely. "Sara. You do not understand. When the time comes that you learn these things, everything will change."

"Did I stutter?" She hissed. "Stop trying to make me hate you, Kratos. It's getting old, and it's not gonna work."

He crossed his arms, inclined his chin. And met her challenging glare with one of his own - one that would've (and actually had before, multiple times) made hosts of Cruxis' lesser angels instantly bow down and beg his forgiveness.

"...Humph. I have you fooled."

But Sara just smirked and scoffed a laugh. "Nope. You're fooling _yourself_. Your fate is sealed, Kratos: you're a good man. And I see that so clearly, even if you can't."

Kratos probably would've been less stunned if she'd literally punched him in the face.

His folded arms dropped to his sides. She kept staring at him expectantly, but all he could do was look at her.

Raine was still awake; she, the Chosen and Sheena sat on the inn's front porch, just around the corner. going over maps and textbooks, organizing supplies. Lloyd and Genis had already gone to bed.

Kratos reached out and took Sara's hand. Not gently, really, or with any kind of tenderness, but with a pressing purpose; he raised it before his chest where he stared down at it intently, as if it were some priceless artifact he'd waited a lifetime to study.

...That contingency plan might just work after all.

"You are a strange and infuriating woman," he muttered.

She bit her bottom lip through a joyful grin. "Hey, I think I've heard that somewhere before…"

Kratos found himself unable to not get closer to her. He stepped _into_ her, really, so that chest met chest, stomach met stomach, hips met hips. He nudged the edge of his jaw just barely against her temple. When he exhaled, it was warm and ruffled her hair.

"Come to my room."

 _You're an idiot._

"Oh." Sara's breath caught. She dropped her half-eaten apple, just as his hand crawled its way patiently beneath the hem of her shirt. "Th-that one, not so much. But, wow. I could get used to it."

* * *

Just seeing Iselia's wooden fences and dirt road wasn't that bad. Lloyd could handle that. Even from a distance, it looked like the quiet village had done a decent job at rebuilding itself so far; when he'd left, it seemed like nearly all of the homes had been shattered and burned. And he'd wondered if it would ever be the same, if life could ever flourish here like it once had.

But he wanted to pounce through those front gates once more. To breathe in that steady, endless breeze that carried the perfect hints of pine and firewood-

And he couldn't anymore.

Colette was smiling at him as she headed towards the entrance. She even waved goodbye. Raine walked on her right side, while Kratos remained on her left. Lloyd and Genis were out of the question, obviously, when it came to entering the Village of Oracles. Sheena didn't want to go, either; accompanying the target of her assassination to the blonde girl's home, and meeting her family, well… that wasn't exactly something Sheena looked forward to.

Sara opted to stay behind, too. Though she never said exactly why, Lloyd kind of felt like it was for him. Like she couldn't stand entering someplace he'd been banished from.

They set up camp about a mile from Iselia's front gates. Genis looked nearly as weird and sick as Lloyd felt, which was comforting in a way. The young mage was studying his book on the Angelic Language by the light of the afternoon sun. But he kept flipping back and forth between pages repeatedly, like he hadn't really understood or absorbed the information in the first place.

Lloyd had decided to use this free time to take care of his trusty Nimble Rapiers. They'd served him well since the mausoleum; it had taken him a little while, and a few adjustments to his form. but he now felt confident fighting with them. As such, they deserved a good looking-after.

"Do you think they'll ever let us back in?" Genis asked suddenly.

Lloyd's chestnut head perked up. Sara and Sheena were several yards away, out of earshot. Genis' question was only meant for him.

"I don't know," he murmured. He kept scraping that oiled cloth back and forth along his blade's edge. "Maybe if Colette really becomes an angel, and the world-" he stopped himself. " _Sylvarant_ is saved."

Genis was still frowning. "So it's up to her."

"What?"

"They'll never accept us again unless she becomes an angel," he went on, idly drawing doodles on the notepad beside his right hand. Various fruits - kirima, amango, pineapple, amidst an array of ancient letters.

Something about that made statement Lloyd extremely uncomfortable. He straightened his back. "No. That's not right. We have to find our own way to get them to listen. We can't depend entirely on Colette."

"But she's the Chosen," Genis said, meeting Lloyd's obstinate gaze. "She can do anything."

Lloyd sighed. Though his blades were only half finished, he returned them to their scabbards. "I don't know if I want you to be wrong or right."

* * *

Most often, she would receive wide-eyed stares.

Iselia's villagers didn't know how to react to her. The Chosen was among them again, at last - should they spit at her, for delaying her purpose? Hug her? Sing her praises, for gracing them with her presence?

Colette walked on without paying attention to any of them. Raine and Kratos stayed forever beside her; she subconsciously lengthened her strides, to keep up with the two of them. They felt very similar - a sort of obstinate warmth, tinged with steely resolve.

She made a beeline for her house, the home where she'd spent the entirety of her sixteen years. It stood at the edge of town, and had thankfully escaped the wrathful torches of the Desians. She made unexpected written greetings with her father; Raine had given her a pen and a pad of paper, in lieu of her missing voice. Frank had had little to say, and left quickly. Phaidra remained across from Colette, at the simple wooden living room table that had started everything.

This small, quaint room had never felt so quiet to Colette. Especially now, when her hearing had become exponentially more sensitive. Normally there were birds chirping, dogs barking, chickens squawking. Or the voices of villagers just outside the window.

But today, only squelching silence.

Phaidra sat across from her, all warm, wrinkly smiles, woolen shawl and long grey hair. Colette scribbled a few words on the paper. Kratos watched the words form with detached scrutiny; Raine studied them carefully.

 _Grandmother, I need the book._

Raine tilted her head at the words, like she hadn't read them correctly. Phaidra frowned.

"Colette? What book do you speak of?"

 _The book,_ the Chosen underlined. Then tacked on: _Please._

It took a few seconds for Phaidra to answer. "Do you mean-"

Colette wrote the word again, for good measure: _please._

The Professor glanced back and forth between the blonde girl and her grandmother, repeatedly, as if attempting to make sure of what they were talking about.

"Why on earth would you want something like that?" Phaidra was saying, through a choked throat. "And so close to the end of your journey?

 _It may be the only way to help a friend of mine._

"A book like that could not possibly help anyone."

 _It can help her. She has already touched the demons._

Kratos widened his eyes, though it was extremely subtle and went unnoticed. Phaidra's features fell grim. "Who?"

 _She's not here, don't worry._ Colette smiled gently. _Please, Grandmother. Before I finish my journey, I need to give her the book. It may be the only way to help her._

Phaidra remained quiet for several seconds. The edges of her eyes crinkled as she stared down at her twisting hands. "...Alright."

Colette exhaled a relieved breath.

"You know there must be two," Phaidra said softly, "for either of them to enter."

 _I know. Still, it gives her a chance at all._

"Raine," her grandmother continued in a low voice. "Are you aware of what this means?"

The Professor honestly knew relatively little of this subject. Only that the book in question was as sacred as it was feared, and guarded with good reason by the Martel Temple's priests. And that it had never, in hundreds of years, left its confines.

"I can't say I'm entirely comfortable with this," Raine ground out. "We are so close to finishing the journey, and taking this with us will only put our success in jeopardy-"

 _Please, Professor,_ Colette scrawled furiously. _This is important to me, okay?_

Kratos nodded stiffly. "Let us respect the wishes of the Chosen."

At one time, those words had given Raine comfort. Now they put her on edge. She shot the mercenary a scrutinizing glare that he ignored entirely.

 _Thank you,_ Colette wrote, in slightly larger letters than the rest, _Mr. Kratos._

Phaidra slowly scraped back her wooden chair and stood. "Colette… is this the real reason you came all the way here?"

The Chosen smiled and shook her head. _There are many reasons, Grandmother. Thank you. I'm leaving now, to finish what I've started._

"...I will have the priests meet you at the gate. Peace be upon you, child."

* * *

The Book of Mists was smaller than Raine expected.

She'd never seen it in person. Only high-ranking members of the Church had access to it. The Professor was a bit surprised that Colette had even known about it at all, since its existence was a very well-kept secret to the villagers in Iselia - but it seems that the Chosen was as well-versed in the Church's secrets as its priests.

The book was handed to her fully wrapped in a canvas cloth that had been secured with thick leather straps. It was only about ten inches tall, and maybe four inches wide; in contrast, the Book of Spiritua had been nearly as long as her arm.

Even covered, she could feel the Book of Mists dimly hum in her palms. Surprisingly enough, it didn't feel bad, or dark at all. Just a watchful, eerie sense of _alive_ that didn't belong.

"Keep it covered at all times," the head priest was saying. "Its straps are thick, and can be cut only by the sharpest of blades. It must not see direct sunlight, or it will disintegrate into ash in seconds."

Raine nodded, and immediately placed it securely in her satchel. It felt light there, almost like she hadn't added anything to her bag at all.

Colette bowed deeply to the priest, who made one final holy symbol over the girl's golden head. She, Raine and Kratos left Iselia quickly, to avoid being pestered by any curious or admonishing villagers.

"Kratos," Raine said suddenly, into the warm afternoon air.

The mercenary glanced at her, but kept walking uninterrupted. "Yes?"

"What is the real reason you agreed to taking the book?"

She was asking him this, sure. But she already knew the answer, regardless of whatever made-up reason he wanted to give. Really, Raine was more curious than anything, and it took a little bit of self control to keep her mouth from curling into a knowing smirk. With the way Colette was staring at her, that would look entirely unprofessional.

"I have been paid to aid the Chosen in whatever way she deems necessary," came his calm, factual answer.

"And does that not include protecting her from all potential dangers? Including this?"

"The Book of Mists itself is not dangerous. Only when it is opened by one unprepared to handle its influence does it pose a threat." He met her eyes briefly. "We are not ignorant of this rule. Therefore, there is no danger."

That was more than she expected. She nodded a silent understanding. It occurred to Raine once again that Kratos had a strange array of knowledge for a mere mercenary - but she knew asking him about that, like before, would lead her down a similar path to nowhere.

She looked at Colette, now. The girl was smiling, not at anything in particular. Her back even seemed a little straighter, like a weight had been lifted from it.

Coming here, and doing this, had clearly been of great importance to her. Which was enough to chase away the remainder of Raine's doubts. And almost enough to make her smile, too.

* * *

"Do you know what this is?"

Sara stared down at the odd canvas and leather-covered object on the table before her. She frowned and tilted her head to one side as her eyes narrowed. The tip of her first finger drummed against her chin.

"A square?"

Across from her, Raine sighed hopelessly. Colette nodded in agreement. Kratos held a splayed hand to his face.

"A _rectangle,"_ Sara corrected enthusiastically.

"It's a book," Raine ground out. "A legendary book, thousands of years old. And it grants us here, in this plane, access to the land of Nifhleim."

"What's 'Neefullhame'?"

The Professor took in a deliberate, patient breath. One of her eyebrows twitched forebodingly. "It's the demonic realm."

Sara's expression sobered instantly. Her hands curled into fists. Her chest started to hurt, and the back of her neck tightened. She leaned back and scrambled frantically to stand up.

"...Get it away from me," she mumbled darkly.

Kratos stood up, too. "It's alright. As it is now, it is inactive and poses no risk."

She had started to step backwards, but paused and met his garnet gaze desperately.

"It's alright, Sara," he repeated gently.

Timidly, gingerly, she sat back down, but her wary grimace hadn't gone away. "Where did it come from?"

"This book has been guarded by the Church of Martel for generations," Raine offered. "It was kept in Iselia, since the Village of Oracles is a pilgrimage destination for many of the Church's priests. Protecting it is one of the Church's purposes."

Sara's umber eyes were locked onto the book's surface. "I don't understand. Why did you bring it here?"

"Colette wanted you to have it. That is why she wanted to return to Iselia, before our journey ended."

Now, Sara looked up at the Chosen, whose graceful, small smile confused her even more.

"Entering Niflheim," Raine continued, "and slaying what haunts you is the only way to be free of demonic influence." Her voice softened a little. "To have a normal life."

Sara felt sick, like her stomach was being gripped by an iron fist. Her next breath seemed to rattle unsteadily in her lungs.

Raine leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table's surface. "However, there are certain conditions. One vessel alone is not enough to breach the realm's barrier. You must find another."

" _Another?"_ Sara gaped at the Professor. "How in the hell am I supposed to find anyone else with this…" She fumbled for words, then spat, bitterly: "This _curse_? _Is_ there even anyone else?"

"I don't know," Raine admitted. "That knowledge is beyond my teachings, and the Church of Martel's as well. But this is the best chance you've ever had, is it not?"

Slowly, Sara started to nod. Her slumped shoulders squared. Kratos was giving her this silent, supportive stare that made her heart flail with ridiculous, joyful frenzy, and she smiled without really realizing it.

"Yeah. Better than nothing, I guess." She turned the smile to Colette. "You didn't have to do this. Thank you."

The Chosen waved a small, dismissive hand. And bit by bit, Sara reached for the book, until her palms made contact with its canvas cover and her fingers eased around its edges.

Kratos hadn't lied. Nothing happened. She expected a shock, or some sort of response on either her part or the book's - but instead it just sat in her hands. It did feel a little strange, and she almost had the sense that it was _looking_ at her, despite its thick covering - so she quickly shoved it in her backpack, unintentionally breathing a relieved sigh as she did so.

* * *

Night fell at the edge of the Iselia Forest. Lloyd knew from experience that passing through its monster-infested woods without the sunlight's protection was not only terrifying, but pretty stupid, even given the fact that he'd become significantly stronger since his last voyage through here.

It seemed like a million years ago. The last day that he and Genis passed through here, and Lloyd felt remarkably clever for figuring out his friend's secret of keeping a pet dog without his sister's knowledge - only to discover that he was (once again) completely wrong. That had been the first of a long string of costly mistakes that he wished with every inch of his heart he could go back and undo-

Lloyd shook his head quickly. _Nope._ Not going to let that train of thought lurch forward again. Not this time. It was a clear night, he was almost home, all his friends were here, and he had dinner to finish cooking.

Focus on the present moment, right?

Lloyd wasn't the best cook - well, 'versatile' would be more appropriate than 'best.' There were a handful of dishes he was phenomenal at, and could recreate flawlessly with no problem - but venturing outside of these usually resulted in some sort of culinary disaster (not unlike Raine).

One of these dishes he knew was good old-fashioned meat stew. Lloyd had memorized just the right proportion of meat and vegetables to use, as well as various spices, to produce a hearty, thick stew that stuck to your guts for hours. It was one of Dirk's favorites; the dwarf had taught him the recipe from an early age. In fact, one of Lloyd's first ever memories was standing on a rickety wooden stepstool beside his father's cast-iron stove, and trying with all his might to stir the contents of a pot that towered several inches over his head. His arm had gotten massively tired, but he'd done it.

He started smiling down at the bubbling pot before him. Though he'd never say it, Lloyd was really looking forward to seeing Dirk again, and just being home in general. He couldn't wait to cross over the simple log bridge crossing the stream in his front yard, to hear its constant, mild rustling that had soothed him to sleep for fourteen years.

And he couldn't wait to talk to his mom, either. Especially now that he'd avenged her. He wanted to tell her himself, to make her proud. He hoped, somehow, that it would let her rest easier.

"You seem in good spirits," Kratos said suddenly, from across the campfire.

Lloyd nearly dropped the spoon in the pot. He raised his head and blinked at the mercenary, who stared back at him evenly, loosely holding a steaming cup of coffee in both his hands.

Lloyd nodded. His smile came back bit by bit. "I am. I was just thinking about how far I've come. All the things I've accomplished." He paused; several weeks ago, saying this to Kratos would've utterly paralyzed him with discomfort. But right now, he not only didn't care - he kind of… _wanted_ to say it.

"And when I go home tomorrow, I'm going to be able to tell my mom I've avenged her."

Kratos dropped his gaze to his hands. He spoke carefully; this was not unusual for the older man, but Lloyd noticed something just slightly different about his voice.

"...Lloyd. The one who killed your mother was your father. Are you really able to say you've avenged her?"

Lloyd had been about to try a bite of stew. Instead, he lowered the spoon back into the pot. "The one who created the situation that forced Dad to kill Mom was Kvar. Right?"

Kratos _humphed,_ and shook his head once, like he were admonishing himself mentally. "Indeed. It was a silly question. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," Lloyd said quickly. He sighed, watching his breath twist dinner's steam. "I didn't know that for the longest time. Too long. I wonder when I will finally be able to stop saying, 'I didn't know.'"

"Not knowing is not a crime." Kratos had been resting his elbows on his knees; now, he straightened his broad back. "Crime is remaining complacent in ignorance and feeling no shame. Humans are… far too powerless to know everything."

That made Lloyd both relieved and uncomfortable. But it didn't change the truth. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But I still hate the fact that I didn't know."

"Your parents care only that you are well," Kratos continued quietly. "Even if you don't know anything about them, your safety is enough."

Was it that easy? Maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing again. "I wonder if you're right." He stared hard into the flickering flames. "I hope so."

Lloyd ventured another bite of stew. But he was distracted, and didn't give it nearly enough time to cool; he fanned his mouth frantically with his free hand, his eyes popping wide. "Ah, hot hot _hot-_ "

"Careful," Kratos muttered.

* * *

A/N: Beginning lyrics are from Bastille's song "Flaws." I think it represents Sara and Kratos rather perfectly... :3

Thank you so much for reviewing and reading! It constantly makes my day!


	31. Cor (Heart)

Chapter Thirty-One

 _Cor_

* * *

 _And I hunger and I thirst_

 _For some shiver, for some whispered words_

 _And the promise to come_

* * *

If there was one thing Sara was certain of, it was that she didn't deserve this.

Not, like, in a bad way, as if she were being unfairly punished. In the _good_ kind of way. The unworthy, overly-fortunate way.

Private moments were few and far between. Miraculous, really. But she found them where she could, and cherished each one with equal tenacity. Even just a quick glance, or a brush of her fingertips along the length of his sculpted arm. Every bit of contact was priceless and made her grin all stupid. Sara felt like she was sixteen again - wonderfully ignorant and dumb, and just beginning to realize what it meant to fall for someone else. That constant craving, that merciless, succulent cycle of up and down…

It was as terrifying as it was exciting; comforting as it was unsettling.

Kratos always seemed a bit surprised, like her attention and affection were not expected at all. He'd widen those ardent cinnamon eyes - just a little, and just enough for her to notice. And those hard lines of his face would twitch and soften, like ice suddenly melting beneath a burst of heat. When they were alone, and the others were taken care of, and the world felt some semblance of peaceful, the first thing he'd always do was hide his face in her hair or neck. Like he wanted to shut out everything else. Like he wanted the smell, feel and taste of her to scald his senses.

It never failed to make her chest tighten and her heart flicker. This mercenary was like a force of nature - an unearthly, picturesque being that she simultaneously understood completely and found utterly foreign.

Kratos treated her like an addiction; when her arms went around his shoulders, and her fingers slid into his hair, he seemed to simply crumple and give up. Some sort of battle always waged in his head, for just an instant; though he never spoke of it, and Sara never asked, it remained between them nonetheless, as silent as it was palpable.

She'd try and smooth it away every time. Whether it was with her lips slanting across his, or her whispers in his ear, or her fingers dragging down the back of his tense neck - Kratos always, deliciously, gave in. She could call him out on it, sure. Mention how it made her a little weird, a little uncomfortable that it took just the right amount of coaxing to unleash him, but…

When it came right down to it, Sara didn't care.

This was enough.

His lips were enough, and the way they parted as he growled her name, his neck straining, his spine arching. His hands were enough, when they held desperately onto her face, or shamelessly curled into her back. And his voice was _so_ much more than enough - liquid silk, deep and rumbling, like a miniature earthquake that made her shiver from the inside out.

The others had gone scavenging; apparently this area was serendipitously steeped in amango trees, which both Genis and his sister had suggested they collect as much as possible from, while in season. Which left Sara and Kratos behind, to guard the campsite - and gods be _damned_ if she wasn't going to take advantage of these spare few minutes with literally _all_ of her might. Because who knew how many spare minutes were left.

Sara backed him up against a tree behind the evening sun's fading rays. Probably a little _too_ hard, judging by the thud his shoulders made against its bark, and the slight tremble of its branches - but Kratos didn't seem to mind terribly. He kept trying to mumble some sort of halfhearted protest at her, about how the others could return soon, but she swallowed each one with a devious twitch to her persistent lips.

"Sometimes, Kratos," she murmured tacitly, "you talk _too_ much."

He breathed a _humph_ against her mouth. "This is the first time I have been informed as such."

Sara's smile crept wider. She curled her fists around the belts on either side of his hips. "It seems like I'm the first time for a lot of things in your life, huh?"

He stilled. The long, slow breath that had been leaving his lips paused abruptly.

"Yes," Kratos admitted, after several deafening silent seconds. "You are."

...Shit. Shit shit _shit._

Yeah, Sara _totally_ hadn't meant that to be anything other than comical. Baby's-butt smooth, as always, and ever-so-tactful… She grimaced, but tried to hide it by glaring down at his boots.

He kept looking at her. She couldn't meet his eyes, but she could feel him staring at her face intently. It made her want to both throw up and leap for joy.

"Thank you," he muttered.

For _what_? Reminding him of his deceased wife in the midst of a surreptitious make-out session? Right, that deserved _all of the praise._ Maybe he was thanking her for stopping them… that was 1000% more likely.

"Yeah," she grumbled. "Okay."

Well, now that she had officially killed the mood, she held her breath and started to turn away. Kratos reached out and slid his fingers around her wrist, making her pause. She finally met his eyes, though hers were wide with some sense of nervous that she fought valiantly to subdue.

"I did not offer you my heart, Sara." He pulled her closer. And he flattened her palm against the middle of his chest, holding it there. "It was stolen, right from here - and it now rests with you. Do with it what you will."

Wait, what?

 _Did not offer… stolen…_ her wide eyes thinned as she mumbled his words to herself. He started to smile, just a little, just this near-invisible prick of the corner of his mouth. His fingertips trailed back and forth along the soft underside of her wrist.

"Oh," Sara managed. "I guess, I… um, okay."

She pressed her forehead against his chest, now, right beneath his chin. Her mind felt kind of blank, like scorched scraps of land left over after a furious explosion. The hand he'd held to her wrist now trailed down and cupped her ribs, as did its counterpart. She closed her eyes to better hear him breathe.

"I'll take care of it," she promised quietly.

She heard him swallow. His chin moved against her head, like he were about to speak, although it took forever for his voice to come forth. His palms drifted around to her back, where they gently pressed her closer.

"Alright," he agreed.

* * *

 _Eighteen years earlier. Sylvarant. Asgard, and a bright, flawless day._

"Sara, how many times do we have to go over this?"

Furious, narrowed umber eyes glared down at her plate. It was full of disgusting, mushy green things that smelled like farts. _Vegetables._ If Sara scowled any harder, her mouth would probably just fall off. She kept her arms tightly crossed.

"I can't just _pretend_ that they taste good, Sissy," Sara retorted. "You always say they're good for me. But how can something that tastes so gross be _good_ for you?"

A head of chestnut-brown hair poked around the kitchen corner and into the living room. A few of the long, smooth strands swayed across a delicate, pale face, matching brown eyes, and a graceful grin. "The best things in life are the hardest to swallow!"

Sara rolled her eyes with practiced dramatic flair. "You're always saying that! It doesn't make any sense!"

"I want to see you grow up strong and healthy," the voice from the kitchen continued, slightly less carefree now. The abrupt shift in tone made Sara turn around in her seat to face the doorway.

"That's what Mum and Da would've wanted," the voice concluded, barely above a solemn, staid whisper.

Sara sighed. She picked up her fork and idly stabbed at the green nonsense, hoping it felt unbearable pain with each metallic prick.

"...Ugh. _Fine_."

She clamped her nose closed with her free hand and shoved a forkful of the vegetables in her mouth before she could convince herself not to. She kept her fingers pinched on her nose and trotted into the kitchen, chewing voraciously, like a ravenous cow. "Shee, Shissy? I'm eating dem, okay?"

Loud, melodical laughter bounced off the small kitchen's wooden walls. A long, sand-brown skirt swayed as slim legs approached. Sara managed to swallow just as a slender hand eased its way into her wild, fiery hair, like it had thousands of times before, for as long as she could remember.

"We need to work on your manners," the voice suggested. "I can't have you eating like that at my graduation ceremony, can I?"

"I'll embarrass you," Sara challenged, snickering, nuzzling into the hand. "I'll embarrass _everyone._ Just watch. It'll be the funniest thing ever."

"You could never embarrass me," the voice assured, through a small, tender smile. "You could stick your finger up every pastor's nose, and I'd still be proud to be your big sister."

A broad, devious smirk crawled its way across Sara's freckled face. She made a fist and poked out her first finger, then proceeded to brandish it like a sword.

"That was silly of me," the voice grumbled. "Don't get any ideas, Sara."

"Too late!"

* * *

The next day, when Sara met her sister at the front door, something was _wrong_.

"You look worried, Sissy," Sara said quietly, nibbling on her bottom lip, shuffling her feet.

"The Desians are back," the voice said heavily. There was a thud, as Sara's sister slumped her laden pack to the dusty wooden floor.

"I thought you said they'd gone away," Sara mumbled.

A swishing of soft chocolate hair. "They did. But they came back."

Sara's eyes widened as a pair of hands settled onto each of her twitching shoulders. She held her breath, waiting.

"I've seen them looking at me," the voice warned, grim, dark. Painfully so. It was usually so light, and fluffy, like a lustrous cloud.

"Sissy, why do they-"

"If they take me, you can't come after me." Those hands, normally so soothing and peaceful, now bit into Sara's shoulders. "Do you understand, Sara? What must you do if they take me?"

Sara didn't want to answer. It always made her throat choke, made her stomach clench. She looked away, frowning, biting back tears.

"Answer me," the voice begged unsteadily. "Please."

"To stay away," Sara croaked, "and to change my last name, and wait for your letters."

"Good," the voice breathed, relieved. "Remember that, always. Above everything else."

Sara lunged forward. Her face pressed into a thin stomach, and her arms wrapped around tall, soft hips.

"Please don't go," she muttered, barely audible.

"I don't want to," the voice said. Steely, resolved, steadfast. "I'll never want to. But if I have to - wait for my letters, like I said. Okay, Sara?"

"...Okay."

* * *

Two days later, Sissy hadn't come home from work.

It was graduation day. The day that her training as a teacher, though the Church of Martel, would finally be complete. She had just turned nineteen; graduation was the best birthday present, ever. Everything had been arranged; Sara had seen to the decorations at home, even fashioning a paper banner with barely-intelligible handwriting that read, " _Congradalashins Sissy_ ".

None of it was ever seen.

Sara's sister, as well as several other members from the school, had been taken that day. The Desians had done a good job of making the act seem nonchalant, like it were for a mere inspection - something that had happened to Asgard before, as well as its neighboring cities. Something normal, routine.

The Desians had released them, one by one, after a brief, only slightly-painful blood test. A quick prick of the forearm, nothing more. Sara's sister had expected to be released, like everyone else - but instead, hands clamped around her arms. A hard metal collar snapped around her neck. And she was taken, screaming and kicking, through the shadowed gates of Asgard's human ranch.

Sara did as she was told. She waited. Into the night, even until the next day, all alone. She received the first letter less than 48 hours later; no one had knocked on the front door, or made their presence known whatsoever. The small paper envelope had been slid beneath the miniscule space between the porch and the bottom of the front door. The letter had skidded to a halt halfway down the hall. Sara was still yawning and wiping her eyes when she spotted it lying there, perfectly illuminated in a beam from the dawning sun's light.

She crashed to her knees. She tore open the envelope, eyes wide and watery, lungs burning, throat quivering.

" _I'm sorry, Little Sis. But I can't be with you anymore._

 _We talked about this. I've gone someplace very bad, and you can't follow me. You have to do what I've told you, as quickly as you can. I'm okay now. They haven't hurt me. But you have to leave._

 _I don't have much time. I will send you a letter once per week, no matter what happens. I promise. And you know I never break my promises, right?_

 _Remember our Unicorn. Have courage and be kind._

 _Always and forever,_

 _Big Sis"_

Sara had never been great in school. Her grades were sub-par, at best. But there was one thing she excelled at, and always would - rote memorization.

This letter was the first. She read it religiously, many times a day, memorizing each word and letter, each jilted swipe of handwriting, each crease in the uneven paper. She committed the others to memory, too. Weeks, months. Years' worth, without fail, of her sister's life.

Of her imprisonment in the ranch, and what the Desians had put her through.

Of her miraculous escape, at the hands of her loving Hero.

Of the birth of their son.

And the final one - of their imminent capture, and demise at the hands of Kvar.

Sara couldn't keep the letters. No names, either hers, or her sister's family, were ever mentioned, out of necessary secrecy. If the Desians ever got their hands Sara, too, the letters themselves would be enough damning evidence to sign her death sentence.

So Sara burned them all. As the years passed, it never would get easier. It killed a little bit of her each time; the only solace she found was that the words would live on in her head, long after her sister had passed.

Eighteen years after the very first, Sara had forgotten none of them. She never would.

* * *

 _Present Day_

Yuan Ka-Fai was not a fan of spiders.

That was putting it lightly, really. He _detested_ them. No one knew this - literally, _no one_ \- and certainly not any of his Renegades, who had ventured deep into the Iselia Forest and now waited with him. Their trek here, to the woods immediately surrounding the teenage boy in red's home, had been in the dead of night to maintain necessary stealth.

But this also meant that Yuan, as leader, had walked face-first into probably a dozen cobwebs. It took every last drop of self-control for him not to scramble frantically and wipe them away. As he internally shouted the longest, most creative string of curses to ever exist, he methodically removed each strand of spider silk from his hair and shoulders, praying that the little hellions themselves hadn't decided to hitch a ride in his aquamarine ponytail.

The commander of the Renegades was calm, cool. And collected, _always-_

He felt a tickle at the back of his neck and slapped at it swiftly, only to realize it was his own hair. Yuan scowled harder. When Botta looked at him curiously, Yuan simply cleared his throat and kept staring ahead, like he had only ever been completely focused on their mission.

"What are your orders, sir?" One of the soldiers asked.

"Keep an open ear," Yuan ground out, narrowing a pair of sharp, calculating turquoise eyes. "We're not here to act. Just to listen."

Botta let out a rough breath and crouched lower behind a crop of branches. "And… what if _he_ finds out we are here?"

"He'd better not," Yuan spat. "I will personally see to the punishment of anyone who gives away our position." He paused, then the edge of his mouth tugged into a smirk. "If he does, though - leave him to me."

Botta bowed his head. "Understood, sir."

"Gods _dammit-!_ " Something was _totally_ crawling up the side of his face now; he swiped his fingers across his jaw-

Oh, right. His cape had a tall collar, and when he turned his head, it touched his face… Those cautious fingers curled into a fist that wanted to slam into the nearest tree. Although that would probably just rain down more spiders.

"What was that, sir?"

"Nothing. Shut up and listen, all of you."

* * *

This was the best place, _ever_.

After so much travel, and to so many _bad_ places, coming Home made Noishe so happy. He kept dashing ahead, then turning around, panting joyfully as he waited for the others to catch up. The Boy was running nearly as fast as him (although Noishe had twice has many legs, so he would _always_ be faster), and felt just as eager to return Home. The Boy was smiling a lot today, something that Noishe hadn't seen very often lately, which only made him that much happier.

The Man felt quite a bit different. Deep, and sort of smoky, like he were caught in a cloud. His steps were sure, but not nearly as fervent or rushed. Noishe whined at him curiously, but got barely any response - just a quick glance of The Man's eyes from behind his hair.

The Boy went straight for his favorite spot, beneath the shade of the oldest tree in the yard, and knelt slowly just in front of the smooth grey stone that had The Woman's name. Here, his mood thinned abruptly, from shining white-gold to a demure, ashen blue. Noishe felt it necessary to sit patiently beside him and offer whatever support he could, as he'd done so many times before. He whined again, though it was low and soft, and ended with a nudge of his wet nose against a hunched red shoulder.

More than anything, Noishe hated it when The Boy was sad.

* * *

"Let's give them a minute," Raine said quietly, ushering the others across the stream and towards the grand cabin's front door. Colette and Genis nodded and continued ahead. Kratos didn't stop either, but did nothing in the way of acknowledging her suggestion. Sheena and Sara were looking at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Is that his mom's…" Sara trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the headstone that Lloyd now knelt before, his chestnut head lowered, Noishe at his side.

Raine nodded. Something erupted inside Sara's chest; she wanted so much to go over there and hug him, to tell him everything was going to be okay. To get rid of that burdened slump of his shoulders, and the heaviness to his voice as he muttered soft words towards the ground. The others continued onward, but she couldn't make herself move yet; by the time she found the courage to look away, Lloyd was standing up and turning to face her with a long sigh and a small, peaceful, perfectly beautiful smile.

Sara swallowed hard and tried to match it. "You okay, kid?"

Lloyd met her gaze and nodded. Noishe was following him - but they both paused suddenly.

"Oh, you've never been here before, have you, Sara?"

She shook her head. And she looked around, awed, gesturing to the verdant trees, colorful, potted flowers and sparkling creek. "It's gorgeous. I can see why you wanted to come back. Did your father build all of this?"

"Yeah, all by himself, too," Lloyd said proudly. "Well, I helped a little once I got old enough. Dirk is great at lots of things - carpentry, weapons and jewelry…" He glanced over one shoulder, at the distant grave. "He even hand-carved my mom's headstone." His smile brightened. "Wanna see?"

Shit.

Don't cry. Dammit, don't _cry-_ "I would love to."

They walked closer; the wet grass gradually gave way to a stone path that led up to the headstone itself. Sara felt like she were walking on hallowed ground; Lloyd, contrarily, seemed perfectly at ease. And it occurred to her that this grave had been here for a long time, probably most of his life.

"When I was three," Lloyd began, as if listening in on her thoughts, "Dirk found my mom at the bottom of a cliff not far from here. She was holding me. I guess she'd been injured in a fight with Desians, because she…"

Sara bowed her head, and kept trying futilely to swallow the lump of tears that clogged her throat. Do not uncontrollably crush the kid in a hug. Do _not_.

"I'm so sorry, Lloyd." Yeah, that would do instead.

"It's alright," he said lightheartedly. "I'm just lucky Dirk was there to find me."

Speaking of the dwarf, Dirk had obviously taken great care to place this headstone in just the right spot, so that the branches overhead parted just enough to illuminate its face. Small, intricate designs adorned its edges; graceful, geometric patterns wrapped all around a name, carved in the center-

 _Anna Irving._

Sara had opened her mouth to speak. It hung open. No words came - only a choked, half-swallowed breath. Her eyes slid open wide, addled, almost furious. A great, sickening shiver shot down from the base of her skull, all the way into her fingers and toes.

 _Anna Irving._

She read it again. She blinked. It was still there, unchanged.

"Her name was Anna?"

Lloyd wasn't the most perceptive of people, but the look he was giving her, now, indicated that she was doing a completely shit job at remaining calm.

"Y-yeah," he stammered.

"It's… beautiful."

"The stone, or her name?"

"...Both."

Noishe approached, and calmly nudged Sara's trembling hand with his nose.

He didn't like seeing the Almost-Woman sad, either.

* * *

Sheena had never met a dwarf before.

There was only one she knew of, on her side, and he lived a life of seclusion in the middle of a deep, dark forest. Dirk lived similarly, it occurred to her - miles into a thicket of dense trees, so that the only smell was fresh water, moist dirt and pine needles.

It was peaceful here. Quiet. It almost reminded her of her own village; she felt at home here, though it was in another dimension, and far away from anything she'd ever known. Lloyd's house was simple and natural, but meticulously crafted with skill that was obvious to even someone like her, who didn't know the first thing about architecture or carpentry whatsoever.

Dirk himself was at least four inches shorter than her, but had to be twice as wide - not obese, and not any kind of unhealthy. Just _large._ His shoulders were like a freight train, and his neck carried more girth than most tree stumps. And his hands had the spread of large dinner plates, callused and permanently slightly dirty, from a lifetime of hard labor.

"Ye don't look like you're from around here, lass," Dirk was saying, with a grin that cut through his thick beard and mustache.

Sheena smiled and shook her head. "No, sir. I'm from very far away. But thank you for having me. It's an honor to be accepted into your home."

"Psh." He waved one of those huge hands at her dismissively. "Call me 'sir' again and we'll have it out. Now sit and get ready to eat. I'd be a poor host indeed if I didn't fill yer bellies up right."

Sheena did as she was told, though she kept smiling. Lloyd sat at the head of the dining room table; Sheena had a feeling that's where he'd sat for his whole life. The rest of their group took their seats, too, until the only place left was for Dirk himself. Sheena noticed that his chair was just a little wider and stockier than the others.

"This is Dad's special," Lloyd was saying, already proactively gripping his fork and spoon, "Dwarven Pot-Luck Surprise!"

Colette grinned. Genis paled, eyes bulging. Raine scowled down at her waiting bowl. Kratos' stony expression didn't change, while Sara pursed her lips thoughtfully.

This was certainly an interesting mix of reactions. Sheena huffed a slightly nevous laugh. "Uh. What's that, Lloyd?"

"It's a surprise!"

"...Oh."

"Would any of ye like somethin' other than water?" Dirk asked cheerfully from the kitchen, stirring a bubbling, massive pot. "Milk, amango juice? Beer?"

Sara's hand immediately shot into the air, two fingers extended. "The last one. Please. Two, if you can spare them."

Dirk threw his head back and laughed. "Ah, a lass after me own heart." He opened the lid to a waist-high ice chest, just beside the sink, to procure three brown glass bottles. One, he kept for himself; the other two, he placed in front of Sara on the table, where he somehow used only the pad of his giant thumb to pop off the small metal lid. "Careful. This stuff's stouter than me."

"The darker, the better," Sara murmured, then promptly took a generous swig. "...Damn, that's good."

"Made it meself," the dwarf announced, thumbing at his own chest as he sent her wink.

She breathed a bright, disbelieving laugh. "No way, really? You make your own beer, too?"

"Ya see all this land I've got here? If some of it weren't for hops, I'd be out of me own head."

"True that." Another swig, and a satisfied drag of the back of her hand across her mouth. "Job well done."

The surprise was served. Sheena had really no idea what she was eating, exactly, but it tasted alright and left her stomach feeling heavy and warm. Lloyd inhaled it voraciously, every now and then pausing to pick out pieces of something from between his teeth.

"Tomorrow," Raine said suddenly, "we head for Hima."

Genis paused chewing his bread roll. "Why Hima?"

"It's the town closest to the Tower of Salvation." She gave Colette a small, almost sad smile. "It will be the last night of our journey."

The atmosphere in the cozy, small dining room had been light; the Professor's words cast a shadow over each of them, as reality returned once again.

"Well," Dirk began, swiping at his beard with a napkin. "I'm glad I got ta see you all before the end."

Lloyd tried to smile. "Thanks, Dad."

* * *

"Hima," Yuan growled. He glanced through the brush and over at Botta. "We'll get there first and surprise him."

Botta nodded. "Understood, sir. Should we depart now?"

Yuan almost said yes. Finding out their next move had already made this miserable night in the woods worth it, but… there was something else he was curious about. It was probably just a fleeting, foolish notion that would prove worthless.

But just in case, he wanted to stick around for a little longer.

Even if it meant more spiders.

He suppressed a shiver. "Not just yet. Be patient."

"As you wish."

* * *

Several hours later, the sun had dipped far behind the horizon, allowing the stars and moon to take center stage once again. Dirk's home had several guest rooms; Colette, Sheena, Raine and Genis had turned in for the night. Lloyd remained in his room upstairs, windows open, night breeze perfectly rustling his wispy hair and white sheets. He seemed to be free of nightmares for now. Snoring had replaced them, apparently; it could be heard all the way downstairs.

Kratos seemed hesitant to remain on the property whatsoever. He had crossed over the small creek, and stood staring into the trees, silent, one hand on his scabbard.

This time, Sara walked away from him, not towards.

She had a purpose tonight. A purpose that made her tongue numb and her chest ache. In one hand, she had a small, palm-sized piece of paper that looked like it had been handled and folded many times before; its edges were fuzzy and frayed. But she held it against her chest, like it held all the secrets to life.

Dirk was still awake, and judging by the dancing candlelight and occasional sounds of scraping or soft thuds, doing some sort of work in his shop. She held her breath as she slowly pushed open the door.

He had his expansive back to her, from the other side of the room; at her entrance, he straightened and turned to face her with a curious smile

"Um. Hey, Dirk."

"G'devening, lass." He brushed his hands together before removing his thick gloves. "Is there something I can help ya with?"

Yes. No. Absolutely. _Not_.

Sara deliberately closed the door behind her and stepped forward. "...I have a very strange and very important question for you. Do you have a minute?"

"Ah course. Have a seat." The dwarf flung up the lid on another ice chest against the wall, a smaller version of the one in his kitchen. "Nightcap?"

Sara sighed and melted into the chair. "Oh, _shit_ that sounds amazing. Yes please."

Dirk popped off the lids to both of their bottles, then joined her catty-corner at the table, using a nearby footstool to prop up a his thick, heavy leather boots. After his first sip, he smirked at her and pricked one bushy eyebrow. "So what's this strange question ya've got fer me?"

"Okay." She sat up. Her fingertips drummed against the wooden table. "Well."

That eyebrow quirked higher.

"Lloyd said… he said you found him and his mom in the woods, yeah?"

"Yep." An easy, factual nod. "Woulda been… fifteen years ago this year."

Fifteen. Shit. Of course. "Do you… remember what she looked like?"

He shrugged. "Well enough, I s'pose."

Slowly, she uncurled the clasped hand at her chest and extended it to him, with the small piece of paper resting in her palm. Though it was light enough to nearly blow away in an errant breeze, her arm trembled as if supporting mountains. "...Was this her?"

Dirk took the picture. In his thick fingers it looked comically small. Sara's eyes flicked repeatedly from it to his bearded face and back again, intense, predatory, focused. She couldn't breathe, and thanks to her roaring heart, could barely hear him when he said:

"No mistake."

Her fingers curled into the armrest of her chair, like it were about to buck her off.

"Her hair was shorter," Dirk went on, in a low voice, "and she looked a mite thinner. But… there's no question that was her."

"You're sure?"

"Aye." He handed the picture back. "I may not lookit, but I've got a memory like a steel trap."

"No. No, I… I believe you." She stood up, slowly, before promptly downing the rest of her beer. "Could I have one of these for the road?"

The dwarf smirked and gestured over his shoulder. "In the chiller."

"...Thanks, Dirk." Robotically, she grabbed another bottle. "That's… that's it."

He stayed sitting, but his skeptical gaze followed her to the door. "...Are ye sure?"

"Yeah." She nodded repeatedly. Like a bobblehead. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Alright then. G'night, lass."

"Thanks. You… too."

* * *

Yuan grinned. "Bingo."

"What do you mean, sir?" One of his soldiers asked, clearly lost.

That didn't matter. Yuan's hunch had been right. He watched the orange-haired woman walk away; her steps were stilted and unsure, and made him grin wider.

This was turning out to be an incredibly illuminating venture.

"We're done here," he announced, turning away. "To Hima, at once."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

A/N: AW YASSSSSSSSSS

FLASHBACKS AND DELICIOUS PLOT TWISTS GALOOOORE. AH HAHAHAHA.  
And we FINALLY get to Yuan! Oh my god, I've been _dying_ to write him. He's my third favorite. Behind Kratos and Zelos, who constantly vie for 1 and 2...

The Tower of Salvation is next. We are finally here! IS THIS REAL LIFE? I'm so excited. Thank you so much for reading this far!

Those lyrics are from Mumford & Sons "Only Love."


	32. Praesidium (Protection)

Chapter Thirty-Two

 _Praesidium_

* * *

 _And this perfect pill, it's all too much,_

 _On the edge again-_

 _Don't look away_

 _And though we cry, we must stay alive_

 _Let my blood only run out when my world decides_

 _There is no way out of your only life,_

 _So run on, run on-_

* * *

There were many things that Colette could no longer do. Speaking, obviously, was the first. Crying was next; she didn't miss that one much. It was something she tended to overuse anyway. Not that she'd really intended to - but her emotions had always gotten the best of her, and despite Martel's strict and steadfast teachings, Colette never seemed to get anything completely right.

But _eating_ , well… She wanted so much to enjoy it as much as Lloyd, who at times seemed to value taste and the fulfillment of hunger as his sole purpose for existing. It was only appropriate, really, that her last night be spent with Lloyd beaming with a watering mouth over an array of delicious treats. Even though Colette could no longer share in his joy, she appreciated and admired it with all that remained of her heart. After all, his happiness had started her on this path.

His happiness made everything okay.

His happiness made the dawn of tomorrow something beautiful and special. Something golden and bright, and so far from the dank, dark cloud that otherwise occupied her thoughts.

She couldn't eat with him. Genis tried to, also, but the young mage seemed far too astute for his own good, and kept glancing at Colette like he needed permission to continue. She smiled, peaceful and dainty as always, and waved a dismissive hand, like it were no big deal. Like it didn't tear out her soul and make her throat burn.

Reluctantly, Genis picked up his spoon. A bowl of rather delectable dumpling soup swirled in the bowl beneath his chin. He began sipping on it just as Lloyd picked up his own bowl with both enthusiastic hands and gratuitously slurped down the broth in a few easy, grateful gulps.

That brilliant gleam to Lloyd's perfect brown eyes made everything okay. And that silly, pristine way he grinned, well… that was the best of all.

No matter tomorrow, or any days after - Lloyd Irving was worth everything.

Somehow, he seemed to hear her thoughts. Or the look on her face was strained enough to give her inner machinations away. Lloyd swallowed his latest bite of turkey leg and set the half-eaten appendage down on his plate. And then he slowly, purposefully stood up.

"My room's got a nice balcony," he mumbled. "And a great view of the Tower. Would you guys come with me to see it?"

Genis stood up immediately. So did Colette.

"Yeah, Lloyd," the youngest Sage spoke for them. The Chosen nodded once, a subtle twitch of her flaxen head.

Really, Lloyd wanted to finish his dinner. Such a fulfilling, grand meal came along only once in a blue moon on their journey. But tonight, the promise of an overly-full belly didn't matter so much to him. He stared hard at a pair of sapphire eyes and a golden head, and then he and his two oldest friends were sitting on the inn's rooftop, bathed in the crimson-ochre light of the setting sun.

As always, Lloyd was tallest. His shoulders were the most broad. Genis was sitting beside him, arms wrapped around knobby, thin knees, indigo eyes narrowed beneath silver bangs. Collette was still smiling. Lloyd didn't know how, but the girl was still smiling, despite everything, and it made his heart ache with sorrow as much as it did with pride.

"We've come such a long way," Genis began. The Tower of Salvation itself loomed just beyond the distant mountains, jutting heavenward through a thicket of dense, cottony clouds and into the sky itself, until no earthen eyes could see its terminus.

"Yeah," Lloyd agreed. He couldn't think of much else to say.

Genis slowly shook his head. "It's at a time like this that I stop and think about how stupid I've been."

Lloyd widened his eyes. "Why?"

The young mage frowned harder, as he glanced through the corner of one eye at Colette. "Because I don't even know if the way things have turned out is good or bad."

"No one knows that." Lloyd breathed a laugh. He remembered a conversation with one of their own, on a parapet in the dead of night in Asgard, about how even adults didn't know the whole truth. And it made him feel okay all over again. "The ones who think they do are the stupid ones."

Genis smiled a little over his knees. "You think so?"

"Definitely."

"I guess you're right," Genis muttered. Then he straightened his back, and gave his best friend a grin. "You say some cool things every now and then. Thanks, Lloyd."

"You're welcome," the teen said silkily, with a gleaming smile and proud tilt of his chin.

Slowly, Genis got to his feet. "Do you really want it to end like this, Colette?"

Both Lloyd and the Chosen seemed frozen, stunned. It's not like Genis didn't have opinions of his own, but… as the youngest member of their group, and with his older sister as their guide, Genis himself had done little in the way of speaking his mind. Now, though, it seemed whatever filter he'd worn thus far had been scrubbed off by time and hardship.

She started to reach for Lloyd's hand, to offer an explanation. He jerked it back, just slightly, at the last moment, and instead asked: "Can I ask one last thing, too?"

Colette held her breath. The pendant he'd crafted her, at the start of it all, that had always remained hidden beneath her tunic now found its way into her palm.

"Do you really have no regrets?" Lloyd asked quietly. "You're fine with becoming an angel?"

For several seconds, nothing happened. Colette didn't move. She stared silently into the distant clouds, and the thin, pearlescent tower parting them. Slowly, little by little, she looked up at Lloyd and smiled.

It couldn't have been convincing. On her delicate face, it felt like cracked glass - like the slightest word or breeze would shatter it completely.

Lloyd frowned. He wasn't swayed, and Colette knew it. He kept staring at her, _through_ her, relentlessly, though he said nothing.

Genis wiped his forearm along his eyes and turned away, his shoulders twitching. And he made his way inside, through the rooftop window, so that only the dying light and soft breeze accompanied Lloyd and the Chosen.

"Could you give back the necklace?"

Without hesitation, Colette lowered her golden head and raised her hands to the back of her neck, where she carefully unhooked the small brass clasp attached to his pendant. It snaked into her palm, glinting up at her, before she extended her hand up to Lloyd.

"Thanks," he murmured. He took it. And he glared down at it with a dejected scowl. "'Amateurish. Only a quarter complete.'" Lloyd did a poor job of imitating his father's deep voice and thick accent, even after all these years. Maybe it was because he didn't have a beard or a mustache… His fingers curled around the charm and held tight. "I'll hold onto this. When I return to Iselia, I'll make sure this won't lose to any other necklace. This will be the best, for sure."

Timidly, a few of Colette's fingertips brushed against the glassy surface of the gem at the base of her neck. As if it were a replacement for Lloyd's handiwork.

She'd take his 'amateurish' craftsmanship over the curse of the angels any day.

She took his hand, now, and wrote against his palm with one determined fingertip:

"'I'm… sorry'?" Lloyd frowned. "Why are you apologizing?"

Colette blushed, but kept writing. "'This is the end… but I can't even speak. I know… that's weird."

Lloyd breathed a laugh. His fingers curled around hers. "You dork. That doesn't matter. No matter what happens to you, you're still you."

The Chosen's breath caught. Her eyes widened a little.

"Even if you become an angel," Lloyd went on, "or even if you become like Marble or Clara. I won't ever think you're weird. _Ever."_

Colette totally would've cried just now. Instead, she gripped his hand a little tighter, like she never wanted to let go.

 _Thank you, Lloyd._

She thought it with all of her might, like he'd somehow hear. He didn't look at her again. He kept staring into the distance, over the swaying clouds, the budding stars, and at the glimmering, picturesque end of the world.

 _Thank you._

* * *

Sara's fist dug into her jaw. She kept mumbling discombobulated curses, like the words that escaped her mouth were as natural as each breath. They'd all split up for the night; Hima, the Village of Adventurers had enough shops and hotels to make its dusty, red-clay cliffs bustle with life.

Her room had a balcony, too. She'd planted her rear end firmly on a chair against its rail; as it turned out, the view from here matched up perfectly with Lloyd's, and she could see the teen standing on the roof of the neighboring inn, backlit perfectly by the sun, beside the Chosen.

Really, Sara hadn't stopped looking at the kid for days. Since they'd left Dirk's house, actually. All of this - the confusion, the shock, the helplessness that tainted her every waking thought… it didn't matter. The bad stuff was worthless.

For her, above all else - gratitude reigned.

She clamped a hand over her mouth as she watched Lloyd. Her eyes glistened. The teen appeared to be talking with Colette about something important, judging by the sharp line of his shoulders, and that similar, defiant tilt of his jaw-

Sara grinned against her palm. And she laughed once, joyously, though it ended in watery sigh.

Of course. _Of course._

A door opened behind her, but she paid no attention. She heard familiar, barely-there footsteps against the dry wooden floor. Smelled a familiar, comforting scent of dark spices and leather. And felt a few deft fingertips trace along the small of her back.

"Look at him," she mumbled.

Kratos didn't frown, exactly, but his almost content expression hardened into something curious and skeptical.

"I was so blind," Sara continued, shaking her fiery head. "So stupid. This whole time…"

Kratos followed her gaze to the neighboring roof. "…Are you speaking of Lloyd?

"This whole time, Kratos." She forced her hand into her lap and her back to straighten. "His nightmares, his hair, his eyes- _our_ eyes. The things we both like, how well we get along…"

Kratos stared at her intently, though she couldn't see it. Her umber gaze was fixated straight ahead, at Lloyd's profile. Kratos had been brushing his fingers patiently along Sara's back - but now they stilled immediately, waiting.

"It's because he's a part of me," she finished. "Lloyd is my sister's son."

Kratos' garnet eyes flew open wide. "...What?"

"I saw the grave at his house," Sara continued. Her voice seemed to echo in his ears, relentless, deafening. "Anna Irving. That was my sister's name."

Kratos said nothing. He became acutely thankful that he happened to be standing behind her, so that she couldn't see the look of confusion, of tensed disbelief on his face.

"My… my real last name is Irving," Sara continued, with a long, burdened sigh. "I changed it when I had to leave Asgard, so the Desians couldn't track me."

"But…" Kratos blinked. "How-"

"I asked Dirk," she said immediately. And from one of the pockets at her hip, she procured a small, faded photo. She handed it to Kratos. "I showed him this. He said it was her."

...Oh, damn.

Time slowed. Then skidded, screeching, to a halt.

That simple, creased photo rested securely in his palm; he'd wielded a sword against deadly foes with far more comfort, more ease. The photo showed two women - the youngest, just a girl, had unmistakable orange hair, a toothy grin and speckled, beaming cheeks.

Behind her, though.

Long, soft brown hair. A graceful neck and slender shoulders. Lips that curled into just the right amount of smile. And soulful, perfect brown eyes that Kratos never thought he'd see again, that couldn't possibly exist, that made his lungs tremble, and his ancient heart stop.

"This whole time," Sara was saying, though her gaze had never left Lloyd. "I thought he'd died with her. She wrote me letters about him, but I never knew his name, Kratos. She never could tell me." She paused here, and her trembling hand returned to her mouth. " _Lloyd_. Oh, shit, I should've been there for him, I should've-"

"Sara."

And she turned to look at him; he still held that picture in his palm, though his eyes searched her face, and roamed over features that he tried completely in vain to make familiar. A chasm cracked open between them, as invisible as it was palpable; though he stood mere inches from her, Sara felt miles away, on another world, from another lifetime.

' _She was amazing, Kratos. Just the kindest, gentlest soul you've ever known.'_

He stayed silent forever. She couldn't say anything either. Her eyes were furtive, troubled - and mostly nervous, masking a torrent of thoughts. She watched the way he looked at her, and the silent, repressed frown that tilted his mouth.  
Finally, Sara managed: "Yeah?"

Kratos took in a breath and held it. And he made some sort of halfhearted motion to hand the picture back to her, but ended up holding onto it and staring down at it again.

"You are with Lloyd now," he said softly, on an exhale, "when she cannot be. That is what matters."

He felt like his soul left his lips along with those words.

But they were important, and necessary - and the lopsided, goofy, relieved smile Sara gave him immediately afterwards told him with wordless certainty that he'd made the right decision.

She wiped at her eyes again and nodded. "...Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I… I don't want to tell him, though. Not yet. He's got enough on his plate right now with Colette and the end of this journey."

An eternity later, Kratos finally managed to let go of the photo. He watched carefully as Sara refolded it and returned it again to her pocket.

"...You two look nothing alike," Kratos muttered.

"Heh." Sara smirked cynically. "That's genetics for you. Anna was always way prettier than me. I got the short end of the stick."

She reached for his hand. He only barely managed to let her take it.

The way her fingers slid between his made his jaw clench, his breath hitch - because all he could think about now was a rainy day fifteen years ago, when he'd reluctantly gripped the hilt of his sword and plunged the blade clear through a mottled, rasping, monstrous chest-

"You're taking this really well," Sara was saying. "Thank you."

Eventually, Kratos shook his head.

"You did not know. It couldn't be helped." He dropped her hand; the feel of her skin against his had started to sting, to burn. "I am sure Lloyd will be pleased to learn that he has… family."

"I hope so," she mumbled.

The tips of her dragonscale boots held her gaze. The setting sun bathed the side of her face and the edge of her tensed arm in warm light. Over her shoulder, and on the neighboring roof, he saw Lloyd; whether by chance or instinct, she and the teen were standing the exact same way, with the exact same expression, and an identical slump to both of their shoulders.

Kratos said her name.

She looked up at him, a little startled. "Yeah?"

"You have come far in your training. You are much more confident and in-control than when we first met."

Sara huffed a laugh as she shrugged. "Right. And that's largely thanks to you."

He took her hand again, though everything inside of him screamed not to. His eyes narrowed as he studied her curled fingers. "Do not forget what you have learned."

"I… I won't." Her brow furrowed. "...Are you okay?"

His grip on her hand tightened. "I need you to listen to me very carefully, Sara."

He heard her breath catch. "O-okay. What's up?"

"You must promise to do two things for me tomorrow." His voice was ice - sharp, cold. Unforgiving.

"Two things," she repeated swiftly. "Alright. What?"

"The first, is to do only what you feel is right."

She blinked. He felt her breathe out, strained. "What-"

"The second," Kratos continued, with steely purpose, "is to protect Lloyd at all costs."

Sara met his eyes, chocolate against cinnamon. She looked lost, confused. Hurt enough to make him choke. "Why are you saying this? What's going to happen tomorrow?"

He gripped her hand tighter, even when she flinched. He glared hard into her gaze. "At _all_ costs. Promise me."

"O-of course," she breathed. "Not that I didn't care about the kid before, but now that I know all of this…" Her eyes darkened. Her voice slid low, to a shadowed, ravenous snarl. "There's no way in _hell_ I'm letting anything happen to him."

Perfect. _So_ perfect.

More than he could ever ask for.

"Good." Kratos nodded once. "Please repeat to me what I've asked of you."

"To… to do only what I feel is right, and to protect Lloyd at all costs." She cleared her throat. "I promise."

He brought her hand to his mouth, where he murmured his words against her knuckles. All he wanted to do was apologize, to say _I'm sorry_ until he ran out of breath and his tongue disintegrated. But instead, he just managed:

"Please, do not forget."

"W-wait. Kratos, why-"

"I cannot tell you any more."

"But-"

His eyes snapped up to hers. "Love is trust, Sara."

She stilled. Her mouth fell open. Several seconds passed as she studied his half-hidden face, the austere lines of his cheeks and jaw.

"Then I trust you," she said at last.

He sighed; his breath eased between her deadly fingers. "And I trust you, as well. Do not forget."

"I won't. ...I never will."

* * *

Dawn came quickly. There were few things that Yuan still cared for in this twisted world, but this time of day was one of them. Everything just felt quiet, peaceful. And some semblance of new.

Today, he left his fellow Renegades waiting outside the village. This was something that Yuan had to do alone, with the utmost of planning and care; he didn't need someone potentially unprepared to mess anything up.

He'd been lying in wait for the better part of an hour when he finally heard the inn's front door open. Yuan had the high ground, and at this angle couldn't be seen behind an outcrop of dry red rocks. He raised his head and narrowed his eyes. Noishe waited below, just outside of the inn, sitting patiently, ears twitching. Alone, Kratos softly closed the door behind him and stepped into the morning sun. He approached Noishe slowly, with even, silent strides.

"You'll have to continue watching over Lloyd for me," the mercenary said quietly. Noishe tilted his head in interest. Yuan got to his feet in one quick, lithe motion and firmly palmed his sword.

"I have things I must do," Kratos continued, frowning. "In my place, I need you to-"

The air swished somewhere over his head; he saw Noishe's kind eyes dart upwards. And then he heard frantic footsteps behind him, and panting breaths, and a voice that sounded like Lloyd's shouting " _Kratos, look out-!"_

A silver slash; gleaming garnet eyes; the _ka-ting!_ of steel hitting steel. The edge of Yuan's sword missed its mark, parried impossibly fast by Kratos' own blade. Yuan landed on both feet, and attempted to turn away and deliver another blow - but Kratos clearly would not be fooled twice, because he left the other man's shoulder and flank with a deep, bitter slash.

" _Stop,"_ Kratos growled.

Yuan hissed a curse and flung himself backwards. Something small and metal sprang from his suddenly flayed pocket and tumbled unnoticed to the dusty ground.

Yeah… this wasn't how things were supposed to go.

He glared at Lloyd, who was gaping at him with wide eyes. Yuan pressed a small button on the communicator around his wrist; in seconds, he vanished completely into thin air, leaving behind a few fresh drops of blood.

Lloyd was still swallowing his frenetic breaths when he managed to say, "Kratos, are you okay?"

The mercenary straightened his spine and sheathed his sword. He didn't look very happy. He glanced at the teen and sighed. "Lloyd, thank you."

Lloyd's chest puffed out just a little more. "Ah, it was nothing. But who was that?"

Kratos frowned harder. "I would imagine it's that assassin. He managed to get away, but I gave him an injury he'll not soon forget."

Lloyd's eyes thinned thoughtfully. That bright blue hair; the peculiar red and gold armor; the black cape… "I have a feeling I've seen him somewhere before."

"Yes, perhaps." Kratos turned back the way he'd came. "Let's get back to the inn. Everyone is probably up."

Lloyd nodded. "Yeah." And he started to turn away, too - but noticed abruptly that Kratos hadn't moved, and instead was staring at him with a strange, almost unsettling intensity. Not that the mercenary didn't _always_ look some shade of stormy or intense, but this time it seemed to be amplified tenfold, and it was only made worse by the rather dark way Kratos muttered Lloyd's name.

Lloyd swallowed hard. "What is it?"

"Don't die," Kratos said decisively.

"Wha?" Lloyd blinked. If this was Kratos' way of being supportive, it wasn't working very well. "Yeah, okay. What's up all of a sudden?"

"Don't worry about it." And with that, Kratos strode past him and made a beeline for the inn.

Lloyd stood still, scratching at the back of his head. "How can he tell me not to worry after saying something like that?"

Noishe whined at him, and pawed once at the ground, just beside whatever had fallen out of the strange man's pocket. Lloyd bent down to pick it up; it was a ring, made of some kind of silver metal, with a simple blue gem affixed to its face. It looked very old, and had some sort of strange script carved into its inner edge.

"I wonder what it says," he mumbled, before sticking it promptly in his own pocket for later inspection.

Hima itself wrapped around the side of a mountain, with a single dirt path that led to its summit. The Chosen's group made their way upwards, until only clouds and open air separated them from their final destination. The wind up here was swift; Colette had to use both hands to keep her hair out of her face.

A short, stocky man with curly brown hair and a pair of round, black sunglasses had set up his business here - _Dragon Tours._ Given Hima's close proximity and unbeatable view of the Tower of Salvation, it was the perfect spot to make fistloads of money selling close-up tours of the Tower from a dragon's back. Upon learning that this particular group was actually the Chosen's group itself, he had of course refused payment (out of the goodness of his heart) and offered three dragons for their use free of charge.

"But three only allows for six people," Sheena was saying curiously, over the steady breeze. "Don't we need one-"

Her words got caught up in a sudden, leathery fluttering and a friendly, rumbling purr; Iona joined them, and Sara immediately took her place between the beast's wings.

"-more," Sheena finished, with a sheepish laugh. "Oh, heh. Right."

"I will ride on the same dragon as the Chosen," Kratos announced. "Protecting her is my job." And no one wanted to argue otherwise; it seemed only natural at this point.

"I'll go with Genis," Raine suggested, after a nervous swallow. "Lloyd, you can go with Sheena."

"Okay!" Both the ninja and the boy in red said, in-sync. Sheena hoped her blush wasn't too terribly obvious. Especially when she eased her way on to the dragon's back behind Lloyd - okay, what was she supposed to do with her arms now? Because the only place for them really was around his ribs, and -

"Hold on," he beamed, as they caught the air. She didn't have much choice…

"It's finally time," she heard herself say, like she needed to hear it to believe it. "Soon, this world will be regenerated. And Tethe'alla will-"

Lloyd looked back at her, his hair flying, He wore a small, determined smile. "Please trust Colette. I'm sure she'll ask Remiel how we can save both worlds."

Sheena's stomach flopped around from far more than the beating of the dragon's wings. "Yes. Colette wouldn't abandon Tethe'alla."

These dragons were quite a bit smaller than Iona, and with a varying arrangement of horns and longer, thinner tails; still dragons, obviously, but almost of a different heritage or genus. When they launched upwards , and parted the clouds, Kratos and Colette led their group. The sun had barely begun to crawl its way over the horizon; in parts of the sky, the clouds and fog grew thick, and they each got separated for a tense few minutes until the mire cleared.

When they landed, Kratos and Colette's dragon sat at the base of the great tower, idly scratching at the ground, its riders nowhere to be seen. Lloyd craned his head back and stared in wonderment at the tower's pearly, gleaming face and the set of stairs that led to its entrance.

This place didn't belong here.

It reminded him a little of the seals - with great, tall pillars flanking the staircase, and a path of peculiar smooth stone guiding them towards the entrance. Something tensed inside of him. The hair at the back of his neck prickled, making his teeth grind, putting him on edge. He swore he could hear the tower itself hum and flicker with life like a haunted, inanimate heartbeat.

"Where are Colette and Kratos?" he wondered aloud.

Raine was gripping her staff in one firm hand. "Looks like they've gone in already. Let's hurry up."

She started to walk forward, as did Lloyd - but he had to pause quickly, because Sara was suddenly in front of him, holding out one arm to stop his advance. He started to question her, but the strange, electric look on her steadfast face closed his mouth for him.

"I'll go first," she said quietly. "Stay behind me, kid."

He took in a breath, held it. Nodded. And released it slowly, as he followed her inside.

Well, _inside_ didn't really work when it came to describing what they saw next.

The path beneath their feet was clear, crystalline. And this made seeing what lay beneath it all that much more disconcerting, because there was _nothing._ Open air, and swirling blue clouds, for as far as the eye could see, like they were walking on the sky itself. It took Lloyd a few seconds to find the courage to step forward; the soles of his boots made an eerie, echoing clicking against the path's glassy surface.

They strode onward in silence, eyes wide. Little black dots began appearing as they approached the path's end, hovering in spirals in the endless air-

"What _are_ those?" Lloyd managed. The shape of each one was somehow familiar, somehow human; he remembered abruptly a picture in one of his schoolbooks that talked about ancient burial rituals, that called for the body to be placed in an ornate coffin…

"They're bodies," Genis breathed.

Lloyd held one hand to his churning stomach. "Why are all these dead bodies here?!"

Raine's slender face was cut from stone. "They may be all the Chosen that failed the world regeneration up until now."

"So if Colette fails," Lloyd ground out, "she'll wind up here with them…" And that was about the farthest thing from _okay_ he could ever think of.

"That can't happen," Sheena mumbled, shaking her head.

"You're damn right it can't," Sara growled, motioning them all forward with one clawed hand. "Let's stop talking and go find her."

Lloyd wholeheartedly agreed. He followed after her quickly, his comrades in tow; the path wound up and up, for what seemed like forever, until his heart was pounding and his legs weary - but it finally ended at a great, grand stage. And it was hard to see at first, past the otherworldly lights, but Lloyd saw at last the back of a familiar golden head, dwarfed by the expanse of the dais on which it stood.

Colette was facing away from them. She was kneeling, so that her hair brushed over her heels and swept along the smooth floor. Both of her hands were clasped tightly beneath her chin, which was lowered towards her chest.

Lloyd's face tensed. "What? Colette?"

Sheena pointed up, over the Chosen's head. "Look!"

Beams of light rained down to the floor in front of Colette; sparkling feathers evanesced in the air, swaying softly downwards, and they all heard a rich, frigid, familiar voice:

"Now, my daughter. Release the final seal!"

Remiel appeared once again, floating statue-like in front of the Chosen, his arms spread wide, and his chiseled face pulled into an almost maniacal, ivory grin.

"In doing so, you will complete the final sacrifice of your human existence - your heart and your memory."

Lloyd's jaw dropped. Beside him, he heard Sara mutter a fervent, disbelieving curse, before she timidly echoed his last words: "Heart and memory?"

Remiel not only ignored them, but seemed to delight in their confusion as he went on: "By doing so of your own free will, you will become a true angel!"

"What?!" Genis shouted, trembling. "Colette's going to forget everything?"

"Colette's human life will now end," Raine began, staring hard at the Chosen's slim, hunched shoulders. "And she will be reborn as an angel."

Lloyd immediately whipped around to face the oldest Sage. "Professor, what is he talking about?"

Raine tried to meet his eyes. She really did. But as soon as she saw them, and the shattered look on his youthful face - she lost her nerve, bowed her head, and held one quivering hand to her cheek.

"Lloyd. I'm sorry. I promised Colette I wouldn't say anything."

"About what?!" Sara shrieked, flinging one arm towards the stage. "About _what_ , Raine?"

"This journey was only ever meant to end one way." Raine steeled herself. Straightened her back, raised her gaze, steadied her voice. "Colette… will give up her life in order to regenerate the world. Becoming an angel… means dying."

"That's not _quite_ correct," Remiel began, with a twisted twinge to one cruel corner of his mouth. "The Chosen's heart will die, and her body will be offered to the Goddess Martel. This is the true nature of the world regeneration!" His arms raised out to his sides grandly, as his billowing wings softly fluttered. "The revival of the Goddess Martel is the revival of the world itself!"

"That…" Lloyd had a million and one things he wanted to say; his tongue got caught up in them and stumbled over itself. "Th-that's-"

"Lord Remiel." Raine stepped forward, despite the angel's piercing glare. "We have heard that a world known as Tethe'alla lies parallel to Sylvarant."

"That is not for you to know," Remiel grumbled.

Sheena stepped forward once, too. "Can't Cruxis make both worlds peaceful?"

"Only with the Chosen's sacrifice." He held out one hand. Colette reached for it. And little by little, she started to stand up.

Lloyd's throat tightened painfully. His hands crunched into fists. He kept staring at her back, willing her to turn around, to smile again, to tell them that this had all been a big joke- "Colette, stop! If you sacrifice yourself, your friends who love you, and your family, and-and _me,_ we'll all be sad. It will be the same as sacrificing all of us!"

She looked back at him, just barely. Her sapphire eyes were wide and watery. She opened her mouth and inhaled a soundless gasp of air.

"The sacrifice of one single person - the Chosen - will save the world." Remiel's flawless, lifeless eyes thinned. "Are you saying that you would choose the Chosen's soul over the entire world?"

"Yes!" Sara shouted, shaking her head furiously. "Exactly! Now come back, Colette!" She jutted forward. But a hand wrapped around her wrist, making her pause. She turned to Raine, whose fingers dug purposefully into her skin.

"Stop. This is the only way," Raine said, and for the first time her voice wavered, unstable. "We've come this far. We _have_ to save Sylvarant."

Sara stilled, glancing back and forth between the Professor and Colette repeatedly. But she didn't try to lurch away.

Beneath Colette's worn white boots, a pattern of holy white symbols began to twist and swirl. Their glow illuminated her tiny frame, ruffled her long hair. The shining red gem at the base of her throat erupted, beaming, screaming with light.

"Wait!" Lloyd tore forward, until he skidded to a halt just before the stage. "Remiel! Is there really no other way? Colette's your daughter! You can't want to see her do this, either, right?!"

"My daughter?" Remiel sneered down at him. "Don't make me laugh. When I came down to play this role of 'guardian angel,' you inferior beings just started calling me her father on your own."

Lloyd felt the world drop out, all over again, from beneath his feet. "Wh-what?"

"I merely placed the Cruxis Crystal upon this sacrifice, who was selected to become Martel's vessel."

And at that, Lloyd Irving had just about had enough.

He backed up. He got a running start at the stage, and leapt onto it fearlessly, darting straight for the Chosen, who at the last second turned to face him. Panting, he gripped her tiny shoulders desperately. But she just smiled.

 _Lloyd, it's okay. I realized what was going on. Every time I met Remiel, I felt that he was not my real father._

His eyes widened. Bewildered, he smiled a little back at her. "I can… I can hear you!" Although it wasn't hearing, exactly, as much as her thoughts echoed directly in his head.

 _You can hear my voice?_ She grinned brilliantly. The tears that had clung to her eyes now spilled over and trickled down her pale cheeks. _I'm so happy! I'm able say goodbye to you in the end._

And before he knew it, he was crying too, through slow, shameful shakes of his head. "Colette… I'm sorry. I c-couldn't save you. I'm so _sorry_ -"

She took his hands, gently. She brought them to her face, where she pressed one cheek into his palm.

"I promised I wouldn't make another mistake," Lloyd muttered. "But it looks like I have again."

He looked at her. He memorized the soft angle of her jaw, the way her hair fell in between his fingers. And that familiar, perfect, peaceful smile that graced her lips, despite the tears he'd started to wipe away with one thumb.

 _No. Thank you, Lloyd. Because of you, I had the courage to come this far. I had the courage to truly live. So please…_

Her wings burst forth from her back. Her eyes snapped open. She started to rise into the air, out of his grasp, and he screamed her name as he reached for her frantically. But she was already too far away.

 _It looks like… it's time._

 _No,_ Lloyd thought. _No, no, no, NO!-_ over and over again, a frenzied chant. He stumbled forward, rising to his tiptoes, reaching out as far as he could, until his shoulders felt about to rip free from his body-

The Chosen spoke, for the last time: _Goodbye._

She closed her eyes. Those glowing symbols that churned beneath her feet grew blindingly bright; angelic feathers rained down all around her holy cloak. Her outstretched arms fell limp to her sides. Her tense shoulders slumped, and her head lowered. Then slowly, little by little, her eyes opened again.

They were no longer that crystal blue - but a dull, hollow red that tried in vain to match the shimmering magenta of her wings. She stared straight ahead, motionless.

Lloyd didn't have time to cry anymore. Because Remiel had started to laugh, and it was absolutely one of the worst sounds he'd ever heard in his life.

"I've done it," the angel seethed. "It's finally complete! Martel's vessel is _finally complete_!" His arm drifted out beside him; Colette, or what remained of her, floated through the air and ended up behind him, unmoving. "With this, I shall become one of the Four Seraphim!"

" _Stop it,"_ Sara snarled. She crouched low, flexing and readying her claws. Her Exspheres flashed white-hot. "What are you gonna do with Colette?"

"He's going to take her to heaven," Raine answered softly.

Lloyd's own Exsphere was reacting much the same; his left hand curled into a shivering fist of its own accord. "You bastard. You'll pay for this!" That look on Remiel's face, the Tower of Salvation itself, and that gut-wrenching way Colette's eyes had died- "Cruxis, the angels, the Goddess Martel - it's all a big _lie_ , isn't it?!"

"Let her go," Sheena shouted. " _Now!"_

"That, I cannot do." Remiel kept smirking confidently. Lloyd wanted to personally remove it from the angel's face. With his fist. "This is Martel's new body, which took years to complete."

Remiel's wings flared wide. Both his palms began to glow, as did his beady eyes. "Your task as the vessel's escort ends here. I have no more use for any of you. _Be gone!"_

And he flung one hand forward, along with an onslaught of razorlike feathers; Lloyd had just enough time to crouch and say _"Guardian!"-_ half of the feathers meant for him bounced harmlessly off of his shield, while Genis and Raine managed to scramble out of the way of the rest.

Lloyd returned to his friends. He looked at the Professor, first - and the bitterness he'd felt towards her, from keeping the truth hidden, vanished instantly. She was staring hard into his eyes, her slender face adamant, the tip of her staff gleaming.

"Draw your swords," she said thinly. "We're going to get her back."

"Yeah, Lloyd," Genis agreed, with a determined nod as he brandished his kendama. "Someone has to fight for her. It should be us."

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Sheena admitted. But she assumed a graceful, offensive pose as her seals flew into her palms. "But I know that this is right."

And Sara was giving him this slightly terrifying, carnivorous grin. She winked once, and flicked her head in Remiel's direction. "You know the drill, kid. Let's get to work."

He grinned back at her. His swords flew out and into his palms, one of which he could still feel Colette's cheek against; the edge of his glove was still dark from her tears.

Something in Remiel seemed to snap. He grimaced; the air around his emerald cloak shivered and glowed. "You plan to fight an angel? You damned _inferior beings!"_

He cast forth a blistering spell - many times, around many offenses in the form of elemental magic, explosive seals, shining blades or fiery, onyx claws. It didn't take long for that confident smirk he once wore to tumble and vanish. It took even less time for his once-flawless hair to fray, or the cap on his head to become askew, or his holy robes to tatter. And appropriately, Lloyd delivered the final blow that brought the angel down, that sent him sprawling to the floor.

"Impossible," Remiel was gasping. He tried languidly to crawl to his hands and knees, wings slack. "How can the ultimate being lose to a group of _humans_?"

All the while, Colette had remained firmly in place, hovering in the air, a silent spectator. Her wings swished softly back and forth, though none of her features or other limbs moved in the slightest.

Slowly, Lloyd approached her once more. "Colette, come back to us! I'm going to restore you back to your normal self, I _promise!"_

She said nothing, and made no move to acknowledge him whatsoever. He felt like he was looking at a shell, a hollow recreation of what had once been his closest friend.

"Colette," he breathed. "Have you really forgotten me?"

"...You're wasting your time," came a cool, familiar voice.

Lloyd's head whipped up. At the end of the stage, just beneath where Remiel had been once before - and just behind Colette - now stood Kratos. Arms crossed over his chest. Garnet eyes thinned. Shoulders squared, broad, godlike.

"Now," he continued evenly, "Colette is merely a puppet standing before death's door."

Sara felt like someone had just clocked her across the face. She even swayed a little on her feet, though her wide, embroiled umber eyes stayed locked onto him. "Kratos…?"

"Where have you been?" Lloyd demanded furiously. "What are you saying?!"

The only movement the mercenary made was a slight upward tilt of his carved jaw. "The Chosen desired the regeneration of the world and chose this path herself. By the summoning of the Chosen to Derris-Kharlan, the seal will be broken, and the regeneration will be complete."

" _Kratos_ ," Lloyd hissed through gritted teeth, "what are you _talking about?"_

"It is what _you_ wanted as well. We will take the Chosen as the new body for Martel."

...And that was when Sara knew.

 _I am not who you think I am, Sara._

 _There is much you do not know about me._

This. _This_ was why; this stage, and this tower, and the impossible ways he always moved - silently, so strong and fast, like he wasn't truly human.

Like he was-

"Lord Kratos," Remiel rasped desperately, from the puddle of blood and feathers he'd created on the floor. "Have pity on me. Please… lend me your aid."

Kratos frowned, though the rest of his face remained impassive, stony. "Have you forgotten, Remiel? I was once of the inferior race - a human. Does the ultimate being seek help from that which he despises the most?"

Remiel's outstretched arm wavered and slumped to the floor. His tattered wings twitched. And he took one more rattling breath; none came after.

Lloyd jarred forward. Sara's frenetic gaze flew to him before it returned indecisively to Kratos. Her heart sped, pounding frantically, thundering beneath her sternum.

"Move out of the way," Kratos said calmly.

"Kratos…" Lloyd swallowed hard. "Who _are_ you?"

He didn't waste any time. Kratos' folded arms dropped to his sides. The floor beneath his boots lit up in those same swirling, circular symbols. Feathers rained down around him from thin air.

"I am of Cruxis, the organization that guides this world."

Light twirled and danced; the symbols flashed - and a pair of glassy, ice-blue wings shot forth from Kratos' spine, flaring wide as he stretched and straightened his back, like he'd waited too long to set them free. They curved back and out, elegantly, though they ended in sharp, blade-like edges - regal, dangerous. And so very different from cheerful Colette's.

"I am one of the Four Seraphim," he concluded, "sent forth to keep close watch over the Chosen."

Sara's jaw dropped. She physically could not speak. Though she stared at him with all her might, he hadn't looked at her yet; she didn't know if she wanted him to, ever again.

"Kratos is an angel, too?" Genis stammered.

Sheena looked seven shades of disgusted. "You deceived us!"

"'Deceived'?" One corner of Kratos' mouth pulled into a patronizing smirk. His wings fluttered, like they were laughing at her. "If the Chosen merges with Martel, she will awaken, and the world will be saved."

His voice dropped low, to something foreign, something silky and dark. "Is that not what you wanted?"

"I don't believe you."

Sara forced her throat to work. It took every drop of her willpower, of her courage - but she said it again: "I don't believe you."

His eyes flicked to hers. Just once, a brief spark of acknowledgement - before they turned away again. But she could've sworn they were a little wider, just a little more human than they'd been moments ago.

"I told you this before," she continued, stepping towards him fearlessly. She started to smile, emboldened by her own voice. "You can be a real jerk sometimes, Kratos, but this _isn't_ who you are-"

"You believed what you wanted," he cut in sharply.

Sara flinched. As if he'd physically attacked her.

Kratos kept his gaze hidden in spikes of burgundy bangs. "My only purpose associating with any of you was to present the Chosen to Lord Yggdrasill."

Lloyd tore out his blades once more. They were still bloody from his first battle with an angel; he intended only a second victory. "You think I'm going to let you do that to Colette? She's our _friend_!"

Lloyd blinked once - that was all it took for Kratos to appear before him, wings flared, blade drawn.

"You earnestly believe you can defeat me?"

Of _course_ Lloyd did. Fire lanced through his ribs. His arms quivered and tensed. Someting beautiful and electric shot up his spine. He threw one last desperate glance at what remained of Colette before he dashed forward, roaring like a murderous lion; all the while, the back of his left hand screeched and sang mightily.

Kratos' stony face didn't change whatsoever - until the air stirred from Lloyd's blade just barely ruffled wisps of choppy, burgundy hair.

And the seraph charged.

His attacks shook the ground. His deep voice rended the air, though his mouth was forever hidden by the collar of his cloak. Those crystal-blue feathers flickering along his spine swayed as he lunged forward, repeatedly, commanding the elements to obey his every whim. The tip of his gleaming blade sparked with a crash of blistering lightning; Lloyd was thrown backwards, unprepared, undefended. Sheena retaliated first, with a practiced combination of seals that wound their way around Kratos' broad frame, in an attempt to immobilize and subdue him.

The seraph inhaled once. He straightened his back. His wings sliced effortlesslty through the barrier, straining, stretching, sending glassy sparks raining to the ground. He raised one calm, purposeful hand just as the floor beneath his boots churned and swayed with holy light:

" _Grave!"_

Sheena dodged the first of the onyx spires; the last two caught her on her ribs and back. She felt the breath sail from her lungs. Given the strength of the impact, she felt lucky the rock hadn't sliced completely through her side. She crashed to one knee, hazel eyes wide, attempting to fill her starving chest with futile breaths.

Lloyd crawled to his feet; _damn_ if it wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever done. He was winded, and his muscles felt useless, like jelly. Before he could truly right himself, Kratos had dashed past him, like he weren't even a threat, and lunged into Raine and Genis with a swift command of _Hurricane Thrust-_

The Sages sailed heavenward, then crashed back to the ground on unwilling hands, hips and knees; a sharp _crack_ rended the air, and Genis' leg bent at a crazy, totally _wrong_ angle that Raine began to mend before her right of mind had even truly returned. She flung out one hand, grimacing, sweating, staff be damned. Genis didn't even have time to wail at the state of his limb before graceful, merciful healing mana sang through him, calming his raging nerves, setting his splintered bones.

Sara was a statue. Both of her arms were crossed over her chest. Her claws were extended and ready, forming wicked curves over each of her broad shoulders. Her feet planted firmly beneath each of her hips. Her fiery head was lowered, so that her eyes were hidden beneath swaying bangs. The air around her frame shivered and twisted.

Shadows sluiced beneath her feet, in boiling, pulsing circles. Her breaths thinned the air. Her exhales heated it, as each one ended in a sable, malignant growl.

Sheena couldn't move. She tried to limp to her feet but fell at once to her knees, clutching her injured ribs. The Professor was involved entirely in healing her brother- so she popped a gel into her mouth that helped her stand.

Lloyd raised his head. And he gripped his swords in steadfast, stony palms. He locked eyes with Kratos; for just a moment, the mercenary - no, _seraph_ \- actually acknowledged him, from behind a sway of spiky hair, and the smudge of a royal-blue collar.

Crystal wings quivered. Crimson arms tensed. Lloyd held his breath.

The sound of Kratos' strike hit him first; a sharp, clear _tang_ that scraped at his ears. It reverberated down his fingers and arms, and he found himself flung utterly and completely _away,_ like a fly, or a speck of dust.

He crashed into one of those pillars as his mouth gaped open wide, cawing for air. The back of his head cracked against something solid and unforgiving. The world darkened; for several moments, he saw only stars. He slid to the ground slowly, each of his hands falling lax, gently releasing his blades.

Kratos heard a familiar, swift fluttering - almost like dragon's wings. Darkness yawned at his left, a great, chasm-like hole in the air and mana itself. He flung out his sword just in time to catch Sara's attack.

Spiked gauntlets met steel blade in a familiar strike. She snarled, hot and deadly. The darkness that had before been beneath her feet had crawled upwards, spreading along her back and broad shoulders, flaring and stretching into the air - forming wicked, ethereal, obsidian wings of her own. Wings neither he nor the others had seen before, that dripped shadows onto the floor.

Wings that appeared just in time.

Sara jerked, attempting to disarm him; he held fast, though she had his sword firmly trapped.

" _I won't let you hurt him,"_ she rattled; many deep voices joined hers, making it echo and slither from her lips.

"I know," Kratos said softly.

The shadows flickered. Her furious grimace twitched, for just an instant, into something confused, something vulnerable. "What?"

She started to turn, to glance back at Lloyd over one shoulder; he lunged forward with his blade, forcing her to block once more, drawing her gaze back to his.

Kratos stared obstinately into the boiling void of her eyes.

"Don't look away," he murmured. "Just breathe."


	33. Discedo (Deviate)

Lyrics are Of Monsters and Men "Slow Life"

Thank you SO MUCH for reading. Time is the most important thing you can give someone, and you taking time to read my story is a gift I cherish. I appreciate it with all of my dumb nerdy heart. Please drop me a review too!

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Three

 _Porro_

* * *

 _You saw me in new light,_

 _And I saw you_

 _Sheltered by the night,_

 _Red in tooth and red in claw_

* * *

The Second-in-Command of the Renegades was not quite sure what he'd find at the apex of the Tower of Salvation's stairs. At numerous meetings, Botta had been described this place in-detail, of its formations and weaknesses and hiding places - yet even for he, a hardened, accomplished half-elf warrior, laying eyes upon its actual face paled in comparison to anything he'd constructed in his imagination.

The path that led upwards was no problem, obviously, for either himself or his fellow Renegades. All members of the organization were required to adhere to a strict physical training regimen that kept them prepared for any obstacle - up to and including ethereal, neverending stairs… Botta swept one practiced hand back through his winglike charcoal hair. His square face was fixed in its permanent, impassive frown, even through ardor and a few beads of sweat.

"I sense something strange, sir," one of his underlings was saying. Botta did, too, although he'd hoped up until now it was something they could ignore, or would go away of its own accord.

"Indeed," Botta grumbled. His deep blue eyes narrowed slightly. He kept running. "It may be what Lord Yuan warned us about. Be on your guard."

"Yes, sir!"

They climbed higher. Made it to the stage. Botta found himself unable to take another step forward. That strange, oppressing shadow that gnawed at his senses doubled its force, making him pause, panting. The other dozen soldiers behind him did the same, some shielding their faces with their forearms.

The boy in red was barely conscious, half-slumped against a shattered pillar, with his blades dangling from useless palms. His teacher, and his young mage friend were just returning to their feet, as was the black-haired woman in the lavender robes, though one side of her sash was stained with a smudge of blood.

The Chosen floated above them all, motionless, stoic. Her wings hovered along her back, where they fluttered to and fro steadily. Her eyes were tinted red, as unmoving as the rest of her, as if they were staring into some great beyond no one else could fathom.

 _Not_ a good sign.

Botta's frown deepened. Judging by that vapidness in the blonde girl's eyes, they were already too late. He started to turn to his underlings, to shout a plan of action - but two figures crossed his vision, locked in battle, a rapid blur of royal blue and flaming obsidian.

He knew both instantly.

The angel wielded a gleaming sword, auburn hair and sharp, icy wings. His attacks were precise, unforgiving and made the very air twist and crash.

The demon brandished ten deadly claws and smoky, spinous wings of her own, that rained ash and darkness onto the ground with each twitch. She was less polished, but filled with far more blistering rage.

Instinctively, Botta both backed up a step and gripped the handle of his broadsword.

"Contingency Two is now in effect," he muttered. His soldiers nodded their helmeted heads. "Proceed accordingly."

"Yes, sir," came the reply, though none of the voices sounded very enthusiastic.

Immediately, the Renegades began gathering the others and ushering them towards the stairs and the Tower's exit. Botta himself made for the Chosen; retrieving her would be a rather delicate and risky operation, but it's not like he had much choice now. As he darted forward, flanking the dueling pair, he glanced back over one thick shoulder to see his comrade haul the boy in red over armored shoulders like a sack of flour. The boy's companions were more conscious than him, sure, but still not in the right of mind to argue, only to _get away._

Botta gently took the Chosen's hand. He had to reach up quite high, but luckily he was naturally gifted in the tallness department; the angel drifted down with him. They were just making it to the first few descending steps when he heard a voice ring out, over the _schrings_ and _tangs_ of claws against metal, rage against steel-

" _Sara!"_

* * *

 _ **There**_ _.  
_ _Strike_ _ **there**_ _!  
_ _His left side is weaker._ _ **Get**_ _him!  
_ _STRIKE! Again!_ _ **Again**_ _!  
_ _Faster!  
_ _DO_ _ **NOT**_ _DISAPPOINT US!_

 _Ah hahaha_ _ **ha**_ _…_

Slash.

Swipe.

Dodge.

Eyes widen. Shoulders tense. A heartbeat, thudding, drumming endlessly in her ears. Rising and falling, with voices, so many voices-

"Don't look away."

 _Listen_ _ **not**_ _.  
_ _He lies. He_ _ **deceives**_ _. He bears the_ _ **angel's**_ _wings-_

"Just breathe."

 _You need_ _ **ONLY**_ _US.  
_ _Feed us. Let us_ _ **live…  
**_ _Lend us your_ _ **strength**_ _. Make it_ _ **ours**_ _!_

A little bit of light, piercing needlelike through shadow.

"K...Kratos?"

"Use them," comes his deep, satin voice. It's soft, though, like he wants only her to hear. "Make them obey you, Sara."

Slash! Block! Dodge-

...Breathe?

 _He_ _ **lies**_ _to you. He has_ _ **always**_ _lied._ _ **Look**_ _at him.  
_ _DO_ _ **NOT**_ _trust him. Do not be_ _ **FOOLED-**_

Sara forces her throat to work, though what comes out is only half hers: "Why did you lie to me?"

And Kratos says nothing. He continues to steadfastly grip his blade.

 _You see? He has_ _ **no**_ _answer!  
_ _He is a_ _ **sneak**_ _! A_ _ **coward**_ _who used you!  
_ _Who just wanted to_ _ **fuck**_ _you-_

Ebony wings flare; inhuman canine teeth are biting into her shivering, tense lower lip, just enough to draw blood. "How _could_ you _-!"_

A sword clatters to the floor. A pair of sharp garnet eyes fly open, searching for hers, as lost as they are.

Sara's right hand is around his throat. She doesn't remember how it got there, but she's glad it is. Somehow she's lifting the angel's body into the air and pressing it up against the stage, where his wings flatten out against its smooth surface. Her claws are slicing into the back of his neck; it _has_ to hurt, but he's not showing any of it on his face. Even as she exhales fire, and growls his name in many ravenous voices - all he does is look at her, like he doesn't need air, like he's a professional at this, like he's done this before.

Like he's done this _before-_

She remembers in a rush:

Kozei. A quiet, warm room; a thundering night sky. Silky blankets, and heated ivory skin against hers, and a soft voice murmuring in her ear: " _Don't be afraid. I will never be."_

"Don't look away," Kratos manages now, though it's strained and choked, and accented by his fingertips brushing in familiar, subtle caresses along her wrist. Sara meets his eyes, her wings slacking.

"Kratos?" Her hand is trembling now, unsteady, unsure. It could heat up instantly, to a thousand or more degrees, and burn its way cleanly through the entirety of his neck-

"Do it," he whispers.

 _Give him what he desires!  
He asks for __**death**_ _. Make it his!  
_ _Such a_ _ **pathetic**_ _human. Scald the life from his_ _ **useless**_ _ **throat**_ _!_

Her breath catches. Sara shakes her head quickly. She starts to let go of him, to allow his boots to return to the floor. She hears him breathe again.

And she's still staring into his tense, resigned face when the only voice that matters suddenly calls her name.

Sara whips around to find herself nearly alone; Colette, the Sages and Sheena are long gone, and Lloyd is just conscious enough to be looking across the stage at Sara, to shout her name as he's carried away by a group of armored men that look all too familiar.

Sara follows him immediately. Her eyes start watering as they become brown once more. And those bony wings sprouting from her spine flap once, twice, helping her forward, making her feet barely brush along the floor, before they vanish entirely.

She can feel the seraph staring at her as she sprints down the stairs. She doesn't look back.

* * *

"How amusing."

The last echoes of retreating footsteps still reverberated in Kratos' ears, even over that familiar, ironclad voice. He reached down to reclaim his fallen sword. Slowly, he stood once more and began to right his twisted, muffled throat. His neck cracked and burned, though he hid his grimace.

This room echoed unbearably now that it was empty. After a few seconds, Kratos managed to turn his head back just enough to catch a glimpse of pearlescent, gleaming fabric, shimmering prism-like wings and a sway of long golden hair.

"For a moment there," Yggdrasill continued, uselessly inspecting his perpetually flawless fingernails, "I thought I might actually have to _save_ you, old friend."

And those last two words were spoken with practiced vitriol that Kratos did not, and would not ever go without noticing.

"I can assure you, my Lord," Kratos began gruffly, "I am fine."

"Are you?" That smirk bottomed out. The reply bit into Kratos like a snake's venomous fangs. "When is the last time a foe has posed such a _challenge_ for you, hmm?"

Kratos scowled and returned his sword to its scabbard. "Did the Angelus Project not yield promising results from such forces?"

A smug, icy laugh, and a twitch of sardonic lips. "You speak the truth, as always. What would you suggest I do?"

"Let her do our work for us. Let her continue to train the boy so that his Exsphere matures. And when the time comes, she will train the twin vessel as well." Kratos bowed his burgundy head. "You have better things to attend to than my unfinished business. I will oversee it."

A pair of sharp, emerald eyes flicked up to him, whimsical, in disdain, before returning intently to those perfectly-kept fingernails.

"I must wonder. If she had not interfered… would you have carried out my wishes?"

Immediately, Kratos flared his wings, closed his eyes, and sank to one practiced knee. "I serve you above all else, Lord Yggdrasill."

His words seemed to echo between them. Kratos didn't move, and remained kneeling beneath that familiar, scalding glare. He curled one hand into a tight fist and held it against his chest for good measure.

"Humans are so pathetic," Yggdrasill said decisively. Like he were simply stating the grass were green, or the sky were blue. "Let us hope that you are as knowledgeable as you portray." He flicked his fingers quickly, as if shooing an errant fly. "I am done with you."

Kratos stood. His wings flickered and vanished entirely. He accented his words with a deep, reverent bow.

"As you wish, my Lord."

* * *

So, as it turned out… Genis kind of liked this place.

The Renegade base was solidly built, well thought-out and decorated in some sort of old-world yet still modern style that the younger Sage found pretty appealing. Bookshelves with ancient leather tomes, ornate carpets, indoor plants with broad, waxy leaves and delicate flowers - when he got older and had a place of his own, Genis could actually see his own living room looking similar. These silent, armored half-elves had good taste.

When they'd entered the Tower of Salvation, ending up back here had been anything but expected. The Renegades themselves, while a little gruff, had not been unkind, and instead provided them all with a place to rest, food and water, and even privacy.

Genis, Sheena, Raine, and a zombie-like Colette had been sitting around together silently, waiting for a still unconscious Lloyd to rejoin them in the waking world. The teen had received a nasty laceration to the back of his head that had been mended in part by the Renegades and finished properly by Raine, who trusted no one else to oversee such a task.

Lloyd made a sort-of half-groan, half-snore that Genis would've found pretty funny in the proper setting. But now it was solely a relief; Lloyd started to slowly sit up, which made Genis only smile wider. "Lloyd, you're finally awake!"

The sharp, searing pain that immediately lanced through Lloyd's halfway-open eyes made him wish he wasn't. "Ugh, where are we?" Despite this, his eyes flew open the rest of the way. "Where's Colette?!"

"Relax," Raine soothed. She stepped to one side, revealing the Chosen, though the blonde girl made no acknowledgement of any of them whatsoever and continued to stare ahead, unblinking.

"She doesn't respond to anything we say," Sheena muttered bitterly.

Immediately, Lloyd started to sit up. The world swayed. His vision went fuzzy and his stomach threatened to turn over, but he limped towards Colette anyway, grimacing.

He looked into her hollow eyes and wanted to die all over again. "I'm so sorry, Colette."

"Lloyd," Raine began deliberately. "Do you remember this place? We're in the Triet Desert. This is the base where you were captured before."

Lloyd frowned. "The Desian Base?"

Sheena shook her head. "These guys aren't Desians."

"What?" Lloyd head spun - for way too many reasons. He lurched for a chair and sank into it thankfully. "What do you mean?"

"The similar resemblance is intentional," Raine offered. "This organization calls itself the Renegades. It seems they oppose the Desians."

"That one guy explained a little to us while you were unconscious," Genis said. "But he wanted to wait until you woke up to say anything else."

"Well I'm awake now," Lloyd grumbled, once again rising unsteadily to his feet. He looked at his friend, then at Sheena, and the Professor- "Wait, where's Sara? Everything's so fuzzy… I don't remember what happened."

"We haven't seen her since we arrived," Raine admitted. "It seems she's being kept somewhere else."

Well, that didn't sit well with Lloyd whatsoever. He started to draw his blades, only to realize his scabbards were empty. "Wh-what? Where are my swords?!"

"They took our weapons," Sheena spat.

Genis smirked a little. "You dropped yours when you got knocked out at the Tower."

"I did?" Lloyd frowned harder. "My Nimble Rapiers…"

"Relax," Raine said on a sigh. "If they wanted to harm us, they would have already. Their purpose is unclear, but I don't think we have anything to worry about at the moment."

"So we just have to _sit_ here until they come get us?"

Genis gestured over one shoulder. "There's some books on the shelf over there if you're bored."

"Ah, well." Lloyd rubbed at his neck and sat down again. "I guess… just sitting is fine."

* * *

"We have her contained, sir," one of the soldiers was saying with a sense of pride.

On Yuan's other side, a second soldier nodded. "She didn't put up much of a fight when we threatened harm against the boy."

Yuan sneered triumphantly as they rounded a corner down a long, softly-lit hallway. "Of course." They reached the end; Yuan extended one hand and pressed the tip of his first finger against a small glass screen. A large, heavy door before him instantly hissed open.

Sara's cell was made of a durable, greyish-black composite of ancient magitechnology origin, much like the rest of the Renegades' headquarters. The prison quarters here housed a variety of cells for inmates with varying skills; in a world of magic, angels and demons, Yuan had to be prepared at all times.

Unfortunately, the pair of soldiers beside him didn't have much in the way of forethought. One of Yuan's eyes began to twitch. "You gave her the one with _windows?"_

As if on cue, a fiery orange head poked into view from one of three rectangular viewports. She was clearly trying to be surreptitious about it; as soon as she met Yuan's indignant turquoise glare, her eyes flew open wide and she retreated out of sight once more.

"Yes, sir," the soldier muttered hesitantly, lips pressing into a tense line. "You ordered her to be placed in the carbonite cell-"

Yuan pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "What are the windows made out of, sergeant?"

"...Reinforced glass, sir."

"Does glass melt?"

The soldier glanced at his comrade for help but received only a silent shrug.

"...Y-yes, sir?"

Yuan waved one hand at them dismissively. "Brush up on your chemistry, both of you. Leave me."

"Understood, sir!" They shuffled out quickly.

Sara's head had just begun to appear in the window again when Yuan opened the cell's door. She stilled, like a deer caught in a hunter's sights.

Yuan watched her closely. He'd taken her claws and gauntlets, obviously, but her palms could be just as dangerous if she wished. Fortunately, now, she chose to stand and face him with defiant crossed arms instead of starting a fight.

"I must thank you for not attempting to escape," Yuan ground out, gesturing his head to the windows.

Sara pursed her lips. "The thought crossed my mind. Now tell me where Lloyd is-"

"Later. First: I know who you are."

"Tch." Her chin tilted. "I can't say the same for you."

He bowed slightly, an action that she found equal parts strange and comforting. "My name is Yuan. I'm the leader of the Renegades."

"Renegades?" Sara quirked one eyebrow. "Heh. Original."

Aquamarine eyes thinned. "As I stated before - I know who you are. You're Anna Irving's sister."

At last, her predatory visage fractured into genuine shock - but only for the slightest moment.

"You're a little sneak, too," Sara hissed.

Yuan continued as if she hadn't spoken. He flung his ponytail flippantly back over one shoulder. "Now that Kratos has returned to Cruxis, Yggdrasill is sure to find out."

Sara blinked. "Yigg- _wha_?"

"Yggdrasill," Yuan repeated patiently. "He is the leader of Cruxis. He will likely show interest in detaining you."

"They've been after me my whole life," she muttered bitterly, avoiding his gaze. "This isn't any different."

"But it is. _Very_ different." Yuan reached into one of the many pockets of his uniform and procured a small, black bracelet. "That is why you need to take this."

Sara eyed it warily, like it were about to bite her hand off. "What is it?"

"A communicator. It will let you contact me regardless of your position."

"Wait a second," Sara grumbled. "It sounds like you're letting me go."

"I am. And your nephew, too." He smiled a little, sardonically. "To put it succinctly, your little winged display at the Tower of Salvation has… _upset_ my original plans."

Gingerly, she picked up the bracelet and slipped it onto her wrist. Its thin black strap would be easily hidden beneath her gloves and gauntlets, once she got them back. "Yeah, I'm pretty good at upsetting things."

"If you sense you are in danger of being captured by Cruxis," Yuan went on, "you must let me know _immediately_."

"Why?"

Yuan glared at her hopelessly. "...You really _are_ related to Lloyd, aren't you?"

Her hands crunched into fists. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"The goal of the Renegades is to stop Martel's revival. If Yggdrasill captures you, and finishes his Angelus Project, he will have access to the powers of Niflheim." For a moment, he closed his eyes and sighed. "...Up to and including resurrection of the dead."

This seemed to give her pause. He watched various emotions play out on her face, admittedly a bit fascinated as to how one person could be so painfully transparent.

"Wait," she said finally. "Raine told me that there had to be _two_ vessels for that book to grant us access." She stepped towards him, and jabbed at his chest with one accusing finger. "That means you know who the second is. And it's someone with ties to Cruxis."

Well, well.

There _were_ brains in that haunted head of hers.

Yuan smirked again. "Maybe Kratos' bloodline isn't solely responsible for Lloyd's fleeting quick wit, after all."

Her shock came back with a vengeance. She stumbled backwards. That finger she'd threatened him with dropped at once, as did her jaw. "Wh… _what_?"

Oh, damn.

Yuan stared back at her in what he hoped was sort-of subtle disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't seem to find the appropriate words.

Not that there really were any. His big mouth had clearly already gotten him in enough trouble-

" _Yuan_?"

"He didn't tell you," Yuan muttered, dragging a splayed hand down his face. "Of _course_."

"Tell me what?"

"Well." Yuan cleared his throat. Scratched at the back of his head. Idly stared down at his boots as the tip of one tapped repeatedly against the metal floor. "...This is awkward."

"Tell me _what?"_ she repeated, in a low, deadly snarl this time, and he could've sworn more than one voice spoke the last word…

Yeah, nope. No getting out of this now. Not if he wanted to leave this room with all his bodyparts still attached.

Yuan took in a long, deliberate breath. "Kratos is Lloyd's biological father. Your sister Anna was his wife."

It looked like her jaw was about to detach itself from her face entirely. She kept glaring at him like she wanted to both run away and tear off his head, so he took a cautious step backwards.

"I knew her well," Yuan continued quietly. "She was a good woman. One of the only humans who ever gave me hope."

"You… knew Anna?" Sara's voice became a hushed, pained whisper. She kept trying to meet his eyes, but he would have none of it. "How did you-"

"Enough," he cut in tersely, thoroughly done with this hot mess of a conversation. He turned away and opened the prison block door, motioning for her to follow. "This way. I'll take you to Lloyd."

It took a few seconds, but he heard her footsteps start up behind him as he continued forward. They were a bit crooked and unsure, but didn't falter.

He led her down the hall and around a corner. And he eased his finger into another one of those glassy print readers, only to make the door at the hall's end slide swiftly open.

Two silver, one jet-black and one chestnut brown head snapped around to face them. The only golden one in the room didn't move whatsoever.

Sara had been standing behind Yuan in the doorway; when her eyes landed on Lloyd, she breathed a choked laugh and elbowed the Renegade leader out of the way. He winced and frowned at her distastefully, absently rubbing at his still-bruised ribs.

Lloyd barely had time to utter a syllable before Sara's embrace crushed the wind from his chest. He slowly patted her on the back, half as a return greeting and half as a desperate plea for oxygen.

"H-hi, Sara," he managed against her shoulder.

Abruptly, she let go and held him at arms' length. Her gaze swept him up and down with furious clinical scrutiny. "How's your head?"

"Fine," he managed lightheartedly. "The Professor healed it right up. She said I had a minor concussion, but I should be okay after a nights' rest."

Sara looked suddenly and utterly relieved as she smiled. "Good. That's… yeah, that's good." Now, she peered back over one shoulder at the statue that had embodied Colette. "And… how is she?"

"No different," Raine muttered. "She's simply not there."

"Dammit." Sara sighed, and squeezed Lloyd's shoulder once before letting go. "I'm sorry, kid. We'll figure something out."

Lloyd took a few purposeful steps towards the Chosen. He paused right before her, and took one of her tiny hands in his. "Yeah. We have to."

"I wouldn't get so close if I were you," Yuan chided.

Lloyd shot the caped man a seething glare. "Why? And who _are_ you, anyway?"

"He's Yuan," Sara offered, waving her hands in mock excitement, "leader of the _Renegades_."

Sheena glanced back and forth between opposing turquoise and orange heads. "I see you two have already met?"

"Oh yeah," Sara grumbled. "We're besties."

Raine was eyeing Yuan carefully. She noticed that the man's red, black and gold armor, while of an older style, still somehow seemed capable and modern - much like the rest of the room. It reminded her slightly of a few depictions in her textbook of Sylvarant's ancient armed forces, predating the Balacruf civilization by thousands of years - although clearly that wasn't possible. Yuan probably just had an affinity for history, and chose to model his outfit and dwelling after such a proud, accomplished civilization-

He met her gaze suddenly. One thin eyebrow raised as his mouth pulled into a stiff frown. "Can I help you?"

"Is your armor made from pyrite?" the Professor blurted.

"Carbonite," Yuan corrected, without missing a beat. For whatever reason he didn't seem to mind that look of voracious interest on the silver-haired woman's slender face, even though her own companions were now giving her an array of exasperated glares. "Lighter, and more impact-resistant."

"Oh yes, of course. And the materials are in greater abundance-"

"Oooookay," Sara cut in, blocking Raine's path when she started to stalk earnestly towards Yuan. " _Anyway._ You were about to explain why we shouldn't get close to Colette, Yuan?"

The half-elf cleared his throat. As he spoke, Botta briefly left the room, then returned with a box full of the the group's missing weapons. "An empty angelic vessel is programmed only for self-preservation. Right now, the Chosen is in what could be described as 'self-defense mode.' Like a weapon that will strike an enemy at a moment's notice."

Lloyd stared wide-eyed at Colette's hand resting in his. He couldn't ever picture it lashing out at him or the others, wanting to harm them in any way.

"Why do you think we left her in here with all of you?" Yuan continued, crossing his arms. "Not even we would dare touch her right now."

"So who are you guys exactly?" Lloyd asked, proudly returning his trusty rapiers to their scabbards. "What are the Renegades?"

Botta stepped up beside his leader. "We're an underground resistance force dedicated to fighting the Desians. Or, rather, the Cruxis."

"So they really are the same," Genis murmured. "Cruxis and the Desians…"

"The Church of Martel is nothing more than an instrument created by Cruxis to rule the world and work towards reviving Martel," Yuan explained caustically. "The Desians are just their pawns."

Sheena shook her head. "Why do they want to revive Martel? What's the whole point?"

"As you know, there is another world beyond this one that competes for mana," Yuan continued, as if she hadn't spoken. Though he seemed to be frowning just a little deeper now. "Tethe'alla. And the one who created this twisted world was Cruxis' leader, Yggdrasill."

"Create a world?" Genis echoed dubiously. "That's ridiculous. No one can do that."

Yuan's eyes thinned at the young mage. "If that's what you believe, then our conversation ends here."

"Wait," Lloyd interjected. "If Yggdrasill was powerful enough to create the worlds himself, what can you hope to do against someone like that?"

"And that's not all," Raine said pensively. "The Renegades were the ones that attempted to assassinate the Chosen back in Iselia. You're certainly not on our side. Why did you save us?"

"Heh." Yuan looked them over with an acrimonious glare. "Your questions grow bolder by the moment. The bottom line is that you want to restore the Chosen's soul, correct?"

"Of course," Lloyd said, squaring his shoulders.

"In doing so, she would no longer be Martel's vessel. Therefore, we have a similar goal."

Though it was hardly noticeable, Botta looked at his superior with just a hint of surprise.

Yuan headed for the door. "Follow me."

The Sages, Sara, Sheena and Lloyd, now fully armed once more, all exchanged curious glances. Lloyd gently took Colette's hand again, and guided her out the door after him. She followed obediently.

They ended up in something that looked like an aircraft hangar; a vast, open space with humming consoles and a retractable metal door on the far side.

Yuan gestured one arm towards two pairs of peculiar machines, with sharp, elegant wings of varying colors and large turbine engines. "These are called Rheiards. They will take you to Tethe'alla."

Sara gaped at him. "Why are we going to Tethe'alla?"

"Tethe'alla's technology is much more advanced than Sylvarant's. Additionally, they have scholars and entire research institutes dedicated to studying angels and the Cruxis Crystals."

"So they might know of a way to help Colette," Lloyd confirmed with a hopeful smile.

Yuan pressed a sequence of buttons on one of the consoles. Sara watched as the machines rose upwards, their wings extending, and those turbines starting to slowly churn to life. "They, uh… they don't happen to be studying the demon side of things, eh?"

Yuan shook his head grimly. "No. Quite the opposite, really: any mention of demons or Niflheim whatsoever is considered extremely taboo. And depending on who overhears, punishable by the Church of Martel, by order of the Pope."

Sara scowled. "Oh, good. This should be fun."

Lloyd looked at her, eyebrows raised. "But we've gotta do this, right? For Colette?"

"Of course, kid," Sara said instantly. She clapped him once on the back as she hopped deftly into the pilot's chair of the nearest Rheiard, grinning confidently. "This is just like a big mechanical dragon, right? Can't be too hard!"

Raine smirked. "I believe statements like that are how the phrase 'famous last words' came to be." As she mounted her own aircraft, her smirk tumbled away into a nervous grimace. "Well, I suppose this can't be any worse than those washtubs."

Yuan quirked an eyebrow at her. "Washtubs? You mean you actually-"

The glare she shot at him could've pierced mountains. Yuan quickly shut his mouth and swallowed hard. He looked genuinely surprised - and almost a little impressed.

"Safe travels," he muttered, as he opened the hangar door.

One by one, they sped into the sky, leaving an electric, crackling trail of mana in their wake. Both Yuan and Botta watched them disappear for several moments before the latter broke the silence:

"Forgive me if this sounds too forward, Lord Yuan, but do you truly think it was wise to release the boy?"

The leader of the Renegades smirked wryly. "We had little choice. You saw what happened at the Tower of Salvation. If we so much as laid a finger on him, she would raze our base to the ground."

Botta stroked his short black beard with a bulky thumb and forefinger. "Then what of Origin's seal?"

"Other plans are now in motion. Come. I will explain."

"Understood, sir."

* * *

A/N: There will be muuuuuuuuuch more Yuan later, because he's wonderful. Fear not!


	34. The Letters

Chapter Thirty-Four

Anna's Letters

* * *

 _Dear little Sis,_

 _It looks like this next letter may make it to you after all. I had my doubts. But there are good people here, who help many of us communicate with the outside world, and I've been fortunate enough to know some of them. I want you to know that I'm okay. That no matter where you are in the world, my letters will always find you. I miss you, but the most important thing is that you're safe. Please take care to get rid of these letters, so that the Desians may never find them. I couldn't stand to see you here with me._

 _I want to write so much more but my time is short. Always remember I love you._

 _Big Sis_

* * *

 _My little one,_

 _It's been a month now. I'm still here, causing trouble. Although never as much trouble as you've caused me, thank goodness. I've lost a little weight, but I don't mind. They made me cut my hair, though, which I hated. I know you always loved my hair. I wanted to keep it long for you._

 _I've made a few friends here, so don't worry. I'm not alone. I hope you're not either. I've been told of where you moved to, and I couldn't have picked someplace better. Stay there and be safe._

 _You need to live your own life, okay? As much as I want to be with you, I don't know if I can. At least, not yet. So keep living out there, for both of us._

 _Love always and forever,_

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _Dear little Sis,_

 _There is much suffering here. I won't pretend there isn't. For whatever reason, I seem to be one of the strongest here, the most resistant to their experiments. I have found a purpose in protecting the others. They don't realize it, really. There are so many lost people here, so many people who have been hurt._

 _You must remember, above all else, my little one - kindness is strength, and our greatest deeds will go unnoticed._

 _I have no more time. I love you._

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _Dear little Sis,_

 _I'm sorry if my writing is hard to read. It hurts a lot today. They've taken me, done new things. I don't have the strength to say much._

 _But I'll be okay, I promise. I won't let them break me. No matter what._

 _I love you._

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _My little one,_

 _Something strange has started to happen. Strange and good, though - at least, I hope. One of the guards here has started to talk to me. It's been almost two months, and he's the only one. I know he's not supposed to, either - he always does it in secret, so none of the others can see. He seems kind, and different from the others. I like him. I hope he doesn't leave._

 _I miss you so much. I wish I could hear your voice or get letters from you, too. But don't worry, I'll never stop writing you. Not while I have strength left._

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _My wonderful little Sis,_

 _It happened again. That kind guard I spoke of last week has talked to me twice since then. He doesn't wear their armor. He looks different, more human. His voice is always soft and gentle. And I, well - to be honest, he's pretty cute, too._

 _I'm getting my hopes up. Although I hope I'm not. Haha, I don't know anymore… I can just tell you I'm happier than I've been in a long time._

 _Pray with me, Sissy. I'm asking the Goddess every day for her favor, and I want you to ask Her too. I'm so hopeful that this will end with some bit of light, throughout all of this darkness._

 _Love you, always and forever._

 _Big Sis_

* * *

 _My little one-_

 _I was right. I was right! Do you remember what I told you in my last letter? How that kind guard had been speaking to me? Well, it turns out he's more than just kind. He's thoughtful, and he listens to me, always. We talk so much, Sissy. He's wonderful, and the way he looks at me - it's like nothing I've ever seen. He wants to help me! He wants to get me out of here. Away from the Desians forever, from their tests and their cells._

 _It will take a little bit of time. We need to plan this together. He'll be turning against all he's ever known, but he's willing to do it for me. Despite the bad things he's done, that alone is worth everything._

 _It's so risky that I'm telling you this, but I don't care. He is my hope. He is my Hero. And I have every confidence that he will do as he promises._

 _Sleep well tonight, little one. Know that I'm dreaming of him, and my chance at freedom. You know more than anyone that he's more than I've had in a long while._

 _I love you so much. Always and forever._

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _My perfect little sister-_

 _It's happening. A few days from now, I'm leaving this place with my Hero. Can you believe it? He is so kind and gentle, so understanding. A bit awkward at times, but that doesn't matter. We have grown close, and all that you need to know is that he's going to save me._

 _If all goes as planned, my next letter will be written from outside of these dark walls. Away from these needles, these experiments, this pain._

 _I guess I could hate him for being with them. He always acts so surprised, that I'm okay with who he is, with what he's done._

 _Listen to me, little one: kindness is the greatest gift we could ever share._

 _He will take care of me. He will protect me. Don't worry._

 _Big Sis_

* * *

 _Little Sis-_

 _I've made it out. I'm okay. Time is short, and I'm running. But I'm with my Hero. I took their project with me, too, their exsphere, so no one else can use it for anything bad. It's stressful, and it's a little hard, but it's okay. I've made it out with him, and we're going to start over, to live again._

 _I promise I'll say more later. Trust in me. Trust in him._

 _I love you._

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _My little one,_

 _I've felt the ocean again. Heard its waves crashing against the sand, like it had in Izoold, when you were born. I've seen the stars! It's been so long. My Hero knows so much about the stars. He's brought me here - it's hard, and it's a little scary. I know that they'll always be after us. He knows too. But it's okay, because we have each other, and I'm so happy._

 _Please be happy with me, little Sis. Please share in this peace I've found, although I can't join you. I hope somewhere, on a clear night, you're watching the stars too._

 _Love always and forever,_

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _Dearest little Sis,_

 _We've made it to a safe spot for now. My Hero has taken the utmost care to assure we're not recognized or disturbed. His kindness always overwhelms me. I don't know how I got so lucky to meet him. He's so strong and compassionate, so focused on assuring our safety, though he's gone against all he's ever known just to save me._

 _Forgive me for babbling about him, but I just can't help it. Rest easy tonight, little one, knowing I'll be_ _safely in his arms._

 _I love you more than you'll ever know._

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _Little Sis,_

 _I know I say this every time I write to you, but I swear, today really was the happiest day of my life._

 _My Hero asked to marry me today. I said yes, of course!_

 _He's not one to mince words, but the love and sincerity in his vows brought me to tears. Even though our life's hard, the fact that I'm free and I'm with him makes all of this worth it._

 _I'm getting MARRIED, Sissy! I just wish you were here so we could celebrate._

 _I'll never stop missing you._

 _Big Sis_

* * *

 _My little one,_

 _I got married today._

 _I still can't believe I'm saying that, wow. I know we always talked about how I'd have a big fancy wedding with delicious food, and how you and everyone I ever knew would be there, but it was just me and my Hero and our priest. And I couldn't have asked for more. It was perfect. I even got to wear a brand new dress. It's been so long since I've worn new clothes._

 _We're moving again tomorrow. He thinks we've stayed in one spot too long. I'm not sure where we'll go, but I know we'll make it work._

 _Always and forever,_

 _Your Married Sissy_

* * *

 _My little Sis,_

 _You're very special today. I mean, well, you're ALWAYS special to me, but you get to know a secret no one else knows yet. Not even my Hero._

 _I'm pregnant!_

 _(I literally was squealing as I wrote that. I hope all of the exclamation points got that across.)_

 _I just found out a few hours ago, and I knew you were the first person I had to tell. Oh, I can't wait to see his face when I tell him. I wouldn't be surprised if he passes out from shock, haha! Although I hope he doesn't, he's much too big for me to carry by myself. I guess I could ask our pet to help us…_

 _Wow, I'm rambling again aren't I? Sorry!_

 _You're going to be an auntie, my little one. You won't be my littlest one anymore, then, will you?_

 _I didn't know I could ever be this happy. I'm a little scared, too, but I know everything will be okay._

 _Big Sis_

* * *

 _Dear Sis,_

 _There's a lot of things I wish you could have seen with me since I was taken from you. The world is a beautiful place. But nothing has been better that seeing his face when I told him our secret. It made me laugh just as much as it made me cry._

 _I'm almost five weeks along, now. Time seems to be flying by, even though I want it to stop, so I can remember every bit of this!_

 _We're moving again, so I don't have much time to say more. Until next week, my not-so-little-one._

 _Always and forever,_

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _My little Sis,_

 _Well, the women teachers I used to work with back home weren't lying when they talked about morning_ _sickness... For the past three days it's been pretty ridiculous. It turns out that I throw up even louder than you did when you had that stomach flu._

 _I've been told this is happening because I'm having a boy, and it's something about the opposing hormones that's making me sick, but that's just an old wives' tale, I think._

 _I really don't care if it's a boy or a girl. I just want it to be healthy and happy._

 _Only 30 more weeks to go until I get to meet him/her. Let's hope my stomach can hold out for that long._

 _Love and miss you._

 _Big Sis_

* * *

 _My little one,_

 _My other little one is growing fast. My Hero took me to see an actual doctor today for a checkup - I personally didn't think it was necessary since I haven't had any problems, but he absolutely insisted. He's frustrating sometimes, but I love him more for it. Everything checked out fine. And I will admit that was a relief to know for sure. I'll never tell him that, though._

 _It seems like over the past week I've sprouted a belly. It's taken 16 weeks, but there's definitely no hiding it anymore. I'm having to let out the waists of all of my clothes!_

 _He likes to listen to it. I don't understand how, exactly, but due to the fact that he used to be part of the Desians, he has a special exsphere that gives him enhanced hearing, among other things. So he can hear our baby's heartbeat clear as day. I wish I could, too. It always makes him smile._

 _Always and forever,_

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _Dear little Sis,_

 _I'm so tired I can barely see straight, but I just had to write and tell you that it's finally happened – I'm a mommy now, can you believe it?_

 _Our little boy came kicking and screaming (just like he did in my belly!) into this world yesterday, and Sis, he's so beautiful, I wish you were here to see him. I think he looks more like his daddy, but daddy swears he looks like me._

 _It was so amazing to hold my little boy for the first time. And to see him in his daddy's arms for the first time, too. Somehow, through all of this running, this stress, we've made something perfect._

 _You're officially an auntie now, my little Sis. Someday, when all the Desians are gone, I hope so much that we can see eachother again, and you can meet your nephew._

 _Ah, sorry for that last bit - I kind of fell asleep writing. I should probably stop and rest._

 _Love always,_

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _My little Sis,_

 _Apologies for the slight tear in the paper - my boy thought it would be a good idea to try and eat your letter, and I just barely managed to snatch it from his mouth in time. He turns two next week, can you believe it? I wish you could hear him giggling right now. He loves it when daddy tosses him up in the air. He's still the happiest, best behaved kiddo I could imagine having._

 _Well, except for his curiosity. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change him for anything, but I'm surprised he hasn't turned into a golem or a tree from all the dirt and seeds he's found tasty._

 _We're on the coast again, and it always reminds me of you. Tonight I'm cooking your favorite curry stew. It turns out my Hero rather likes curry, also. Great minds think alike._

 _I hope you have a good dinner tonight too, my little one. I love you._

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _Dear Sis,_

 _Three years. Can you believe I've made it out here for three years? When I first left that ranch with my Hero, I wondered if I'd be okay for hours, much less days, months or years._

 _The sun is just setting, now. We're between towns, on the move again. Daddy has his boy on his shoulders. He's teaching him about the stars. Or trying to, anyway. Our kiddo hasn't developed something close to an attention span yet. I don't know if he ever will, haha._

 _I'm missing you a lot tonight. You're thirteen now, and I bet you've grown up and gotten even more beautiful. I wonder if you still have your freckles. I want to know so much about you, and what you've done with your life - but your safety is most important, and is more than enough for me._

 _Always and forever_

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _Sis,_

 _I can't tell you anything good this time. I'm sorry._

 _They've gotten so close to finding us. We're running as fast as we can but I don't know how much longer it will last. They have patrols waiting for us no matter where we go. We're going to try one last place, someplace new and out of the way. My Hero doesn't think we'll be easy to track there. I hope he's right._

 _Ah, listen to me. I'm sorry. I know we'll be fine. I just get a little scared sometimes. I worry so much for our boy. He's asleep in my lap right now. I wish I could rest as deeply as he does. Sometimes I get so tired._

 _Everything will be okay. I promise. Don't worry about me._

 _Sissy_

* * *

 _Sis, I need you to be strong right now. I need you to listen to me. Please._

 _This might be the last letter I can send you. We are passing through one last town, but where we are headed, there are hardly any other people, and nowhere I can meet my contacts. I don't know how long we will have to stay there. It could be for a long time._

 _It hurts so much that I can't talk to you anymore. But I have to do what is best for my son. I know my Hero will keep us safe. He always has. Please don't worry._

 _No matter what happens - no matter if they catch us, or we have to keep running forever - this has all been worth it. This quiet, simple life has been worth it. The happiness that my Hero and my son have given me is more than I could ever ask for._

 _My only regret is that you weren't here with us to share in it. I can only pray that you've found your own happiness, and that you never, ever let it go._

 _I love you always and forever. Thank you for everything._

 _Please don't ever forget me._

 _Sissy_


	35. Dimitte (Forgive)

Chapter Thirty-Five

 _Dimitte_

* * *

Lloyd didn't really know what to expect once they left the Renegades' hangar. The only other time he'd been this high up in the air was during their few and far between trips on dragons, and that was solely for getting from one town to another - not to cross some sort of vague, mythical dimensional boundary (whatever _that_ was). He was a bit nervous, but mostly _super_ excited, as evidenced by the beaming grin on his windswept face. And simultaneously very glad to be flying behind Sheena, the only one of them who had done this before.

The Rhieards were incredibly easy and simple to pilot, with an intuitive set of handles that one pushed in a simple formation of left/right and forward/back. Those powerful turbines churning at the aircraft's heart made the cockpit rumble. Their long, batlike wings would shift and cut through the air at the slightest provocation; it almost made Lloyd want to try a backflip or a barrel roll, but Colette had been anchored to the seat behind him, and the last thing he needed was for her to fly off into the sky like a comet. Would kind of defeat the whole purpose of getting on the Rhieards in the first place.

Raine and Genis rode on their own craft just to his left, with the former acting as pilot. Raine herself seemed more interested in the mechanics of the Rhieard than how to properly fly it; more than once, Genis had to nudge her side or elbow when they started slowly veering off in one direction due to the Professor's distracted gaze. Sheena, appropriately, looked completely at ease, and almost responsible for their well-being judging by the careful looks she kept shooting them over one shoulder.

Sara seemed incredibly tense and uncomfortable, strangely enough. Given her reputation for recklessness, as well as her extensive experience at flying, Lloyd had expected her to have already mastered the art of piloting.

Much the opposite had turned out to be true. She had a death grip on the Rhieard's handles, and every little twitch and gust of air drew a bitter, astonished curse from her grimacing mouth.

Each of their aircraft was outfitted with a communicator; Lloyd pushed a large shiny button on the console in front of him, and asked, "Everything okay, Sara?"

"It's not _breathing_ ," came her pithy response. "It… it doesn't talk to me or give me feedback at all! How do I know it won't just _blow up?"_

"You have nothing to worry about," Sheena's voice announced on a laugh. "Rhieards are very safe, I promise!"

"Yeah, loosen up a little, Sara," Lloyd encouraged, sending her a proud grin over his shoulder. He started to ease his Rhieard towards hers. "Here, I'll show you how to-"

" _Lloyd Irving I swear to gods-"_ A random bump of air, and more hissed cursing. "I love you, kid, but come any closer and I'll - uh, is anyone else seeing this?"

They all abruptly stared forward. And what they saw simply shouldn't have been possible; the very sky seemed to be tearing down the middle, like a cloth or a piece of paper. Between each frayed edge was a glimpse of another landscape - vast rocky mountains, an endless ocean, bright blue sky - only upside-down, and whizzing past at an equal speed.

"Ah, there it is," Sheena said. "The dimensional rift. Everyone hang on!" And she lunged her Rhieard straight into that tear - only to flip over and fly what appeared to be belly-up, but across the border was perfectly vertical.

Lloyd grinned wider. "Here we go!"

Raine laughed triumphantly. "Genis! It's really a dimensional rift! Can you believe it?!"

Genis tried to smile, but mostly held onto his sister. "Yeah, whatever you say!"

Sara covered her eyes with one hand. "You can do this, _youcandothis-"_

And in a few moments, Sylvarant became a mere memory.

The Sages gasped simultaneously - not from the flight, or from the new, unexplored view. But from the smack of mana, like a spray of fresh water across their skin. The very air seemed to taste better, to fill their lungs more potently. And the wind smelled like life and promise rather than dry oblivion. For a few indelible seconds, Raine closed her eyes and simply existed; no one else saw the peaceful smile on her usually stoic, if graceful face. Her sepia robes fluttered behind her like a pair of wings.

...But the contentment didn't last long. Those turbines swirling beneath their feet began to sputter and slow. What had once been a smooth path forward now felt bumpy, unsure.

"Uh…" Lloyd's eyes bulged. "Wh-what's happening?"

"I wondered if this might happen," Sheena began, the frown on her face evident even through her voice. "Since all the seals in Sylvarant have been broken, there's not enough of the appropriate mana in this world."

Sara's shriek made them all flinch: _"And that means?!"_

Judging by their unwanted rapid descent, Sheena didn't really _have_ to answer, but did anyway:

"We're gonna fall!"

Their horrified screams rang out in-sync as the Rhieards shut off completely, turning into gliders rather than propulsion aircraft. Luckily, whatever area of Tethe'alla they'd entered into had a large, flat mountain that they instinctively all aimed for, and managed to skid to a mostly-safe stop on top of, with only a few scrapes and bruises on both their part and the Rheiards.

Sheena hopped off of hers first, inspecting the damage with calculating eyes as she attempted to tame her wild charcoal ponytail. Raine and Genis departed next, then Lloyd, who eased a thankfully-unharmed Colette down to the ground, where she stood silently.

Sheena really kept trying to hide her smirk as she slowly approached Sara's Rheiard; the orange-haired woman hadn't dismounted yet, and still maintained her fervent death grip on the aircraft's steering handles.

"We made it," Sheena said wryly, and offered one assisting hand. "You're not dead, I promise."

Sara cracked open one eye. It darted for Sheena and stayed there as the other one slowly opened as well.

"A little warning would've been _super_ cool," Sara muttered, and grasped the ninja's offered hand firmly as her boots met once again with solid ground.

"Well you survived," Sheena challenged, "didn't you?"

" _You_ might not for much longer…"

Lloyd breathed a sigh. "I think we managed to avoid destroying them completely."

"But they're useless unless we get some fuel," Genis muttered, his shoulders slumping.

"What's the fuel?" Lloyd wondered aloud. "Coal?"

" _Coal?!"_ Sheena muffled a laugh in her forearm, though her hazel eyes couldn't hide their amused gleam. "Oh, geez, how do you guys manage to actually _live_ in Sylvarant?"

"Then magic, I assume?" Raine offered. "Perhaps the lightning that Volt produces?"

Genis started to smile. "Then all we have to do is have Sheena summon Volt, right?"

That carefree, confident demeanor the teenage girl had worn began to wither. She cleared her throat and slid her gaze off to one side. "I… haven't made a pact with Volt."

"Oh." Lloyd frowned and rubbed the back of his head. "Then I guess we'll just have to leave these here. And I was so excited to fly them, too…"

" _Bye,_ death machines, _"_ Sara shouted, waving a dismissive hand at the downed aircraft. "Let's get out of here. What's our first stop, Sheena?"

Sheena gestured west, over the distant plains and at a massive walled city just barely visible in the distance. It seemed made from gold, with palace spires jutting regally towards the heavens. "Well… the Imperial Research Academy in Meltokio is where most of the research on Cruxis Crystals has taken place. It would be a good place to start."

Genis carefully approached the edge of the plateau. A gust of wind nearly bowled him over, and he swallowed hard. "But we have to get down this mountain first…"

They began trekking down the winding descending path, which at times thinned precariously, so that the only possible way to pass was one person at a time. Sara went first, easing her boots along the crumbling rock, followed by Sheena, then Raine, who led Genis across with one of his hands in hers. Lloyd was forced to walk backwards as he guided a listless Colette gingerly forward. He tried mostly to avoid looking at her face, especially her hollow eyes - but he didn't have much choice now, and when they finally made it safely to the other side, he stopped walking entirely.

"Colette." He said her name once, at a normal volume; when she expectantly didn't respond, he said it again, louder, until he was shouting it at the top of his lungs, and his friends had all paused and turned towards him with wide eyes. "Hey, Colette! Can you hear me?"

Genis slowly lowered his dejected gaze to the ground. "It looks like she can't even tell you're talking to her right now."

Lloyd had been holding onto the Chosen's hands still. He finally dropped them. "Dammit. At that moment, facing the decision between Colette and the world…" He spat his last words with disgust. "For a split second, I chose the world. Even though it's nothing but a false peace."

"It was unavoidable," Raine said gently. "When a single decision you make could destroy the world, casually choosing your friend's life instead would've been a careless choice indeed."

"Still, at that moment, I abandoned Colette." Lloyd shook his head slowly and tried to bite back a few bitter tears. Colette's empty eyes were staring at him unbearably. "I'm a hypocrite, dammit…"

He heard a few footsteps, and then a familiar raspy voice just behind him. "What would she say, Lloyd?"

He looked back at Sara. "What?"

"You're getting all caught up in your opinion of yourself," she continued, "without stopping to think what _Colette_ would think about you right now."

Lloyd turned back to the Chosen. Tried to remember her tiny smile, to hear her musical laugh. "...She would probably tell me I'm doing the best I can. And that she's proud of me."

"Then remember that," Sara said resolutely. "Remember what she thinks of you. Because she's still in there, somewhere. And by beating yourself up, you're just forgetting about her."

Little by little, Lloyd nodded. "...You're right. Colette, I'm sorry. I promise I'll do everything I can." His voice dropped low; his palms began to yearn for the hilts of his swords. "And I'll make Kratos pay for this."

Sara seemed to crumple. She'd been focusing intently on Lloyd, but now turned away and looked everyplace else.

"He was deceiving us from the very beginning," Genis added petulantly.

Raine's lips thinned into an uneasy frown. "I had thought there was something strange about him. But in the end… I couldn't figure it out in time."

Lloyd had started to think that the rocky mountain face beside him would be a good place to plant his shivering fist. "As we blindly went ahead with the so-called Journey of Regeneration, he was just laughing at us the whole time."

"I wonder," Raine was muttering quietly. "The things he said, especially… Lloyd? I felt a gentleness in the words he spoke to you."

Lloyd snorted. "Kratos, _gentle?_ You've _got_ to be kidding."

"Still, it's true," Sheena began, staring down at her own Exsphere. "It's hard to believe the things he said to us after the Asgard ranch were spoken by a cold-hearted angel of Cruxis." She cautiously looked up and over at Sara, who still had her back turned to all of them. "And Sara, it always seemed like you two got along-"

" _Stop_ this," she barked.

Sheena and Lloyd both flinched slightly at her sudden, harsh tone. Sara didn't look at any of them, and instead started walking again, motioning stiffy for them to follow.

"Rehashing the past won't help Colette. Keep moving."

Sheena met Lloyd's equally-surprised gaze, her eyebrows raised. But they did as she said, and began descending the mountain once more.

They continued downward mostly in silence, avoiding cliffs, boulders and the occasional monster that sprang from the shadows, whether it was a grumpy bear or a territorial wolf. Using her staff as a walking stick, Raine gradually made her way forward until she was shoulder-to-shoulder with Sara, who acknowledged her presence with only a quick, stony glance.

"Are you alright?" the Professor asked.

Sara's jaw tensed. "What?"

Empathy wasn't exactly Raine's strong suit, but she tried her best to offer it somehow through a soft voice and what she hoped was a kind expression. "Ever since the Tower of Salvation, you've been-"

"I know," Sara cut in swiftly. Her claws clicked together as she absently curled and uncurled her fingers. "And I can assure you that it's not jeopardizing our mission, okay? If anything, it's just more fuel for me to keep going."

Several tense seconds passed in silence. Sara wouldn't look at her, and the stiffness to the dragon tamer's shoulders hadn't eased.

"I'm not asking for strategic or evaluation purposes," Raine said mildly. "I'm asking… as a friend." And she hoped that was good enough, straightforward enough to bring about an honest answer.

"No," Sara ground out. Her voice cracked, but she tried to cover it by clearing her throat. "The answer is no. I'm… not alright at all."

"...I see." Raine sighed and briefly closed her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Sara kept blinking rapidly and hid her eyes in her bangs. But she smiled, just a little, as they kept walking together.

"Thanks, Raine. Can I ask you something too?"

The Professor deliberately straightened her back. "Yes, of course."

"It must have been hard to keep Colette's secret this whole time." She paused, and glanced back at the Chosen quickly. "When did you first know?"

It took Raine a few moments to figure out how to answer. "From the beginning. So did she. Earlier, even - the Chosen is told of her fate at ten years old. So for the past six years, Colette knew she would have to give up her life."

"Didn't she ever say anything? To you or any of the Church?"

"About what?"

"Not wanting to die." Sara slowly shook her head. "Just something, _any_ kind of protest against her fate?"

Raine quickly found that answering that question was one of the hardest things she ever had to say.

"No. ...Never."

* * *

Meltokio looked closer from the mountain.

On foot, on Tethe'alla's vast plains of verdant grass and hills, the trip took well into the evening, until nightfall began to darken the foreign sky. There were monsters, too, pretty much everywhere, not unlike Sylvarant; Sheena had explained that this didn't used to be the case. But since their journey to break all of Sylvarant's seals had been successful, Tethe'alla's mana had declined just enough for bad things to crawl their way from the world's shadows once more.

The flourishing world had their own travelers' inns scattered throughout the landscape. Here, though, they were called Houses of Guidance, and much like everything else in Tethe'alla, were better-made and more comfortable than their Sylvaranti counterparts. Though Meltokio was not far, the group had decided to stop at one of these inns for the night and take a much-needed rest.

Sheena was equal parts glad and terrified to be back in her homeland. Though she was well-accustomed to a life of new cities and challenges, returning to something familiar never failed to provide a certain level of comfort. But returning here also meant many unpleasant things - of having to admit her failure as the Chosen's assassin, of explaining why she returned _with_ the Chosen herself. And then admitting to her village that success had once again slipped through her clumsy fingers.

All of these things kept her awake; this had become an unwelcome trend. Corinne sat in his usual spot on her shoulder, every now and then asking if she was alright or why she couldn't sleep ("I'm fine. Just can't."). The manmade Summon Spirit clearly didn't believe a word she said, but he knew by now that prodding wouldn't get him anywhere. So he spent most of his time sitting silently, his poofy blue tails twisting around her shoulders, his tiny nose and whiskers tickling the side of her neck.

Pacing seemed to be the only thing that kind of tampered her wild thoughts, and that's what she was doing now, back and forth across the House's front lawn. Just repeated slow, even steps that one-by-one forced her mind in order-

"What's Meltokio like?"

The question nearly made her jump out of her skin; she whipped around awkwardly to face Lloyd, who had taken a seat at one of the picnic tables next to the House's front wall. He met her addled gaze with a broad smile.

Sheena quickly righted herself and smiled too. "Well, it's giant. Sylvarant doesn't have anything like it. Even Palmacosta is only probably a fourth of its size."

Lloyd blinked. "Wow, I can't even imagine a place that big. I'm so excited to see it!"

His happiness was contagious. Sheena meandered towards the table and took a seat across from him. "Yeah, there's even a Coliseum where you can win money and prizes for fighting. It's a big tourist attraction. And the Royal Palace is really pretty. I've only ever seen the throne room, but I hear it has over a hundred bedrooms."

Lloyd's eyes widened. "W-wow. Why would anyone need a hundred bedrooms?"

Corrine jumped deftly from Sheena's shoulder and sat down on the table between them. "For parties!"

"Parties?" Lloyd parroted.

Sheena breathed a laugh. "Corrine's not wrong. Meltokio is Tethe'alla's social hub. The King and Tethe'alla's Chosen throw lots of soirees there. To the public, it's just a party, but to the people invited, it's one big business meeting."

A few seconds passed where Lloyd drummed his fingertips pensively against the tabletop. "So Tethe'alla has a Chosen, too, huh? What's she like?"

"He," Sheena corrected dryly. "He's nothing at all like Colette."

"He thinks Sheena's cute," Corrine added cheerfully.

Sheena blushed furiously and just barely fought off the urge to shove Corrine clear off the table. But Lloyd only stared at her with innocent curiosity. "Oh, so you've met him before?"

"Unfortunately," Sheena grumbled. "He's an idiot. I can't stand that guy."

"I dunno," Lloyd began, casually stretching his arms over his head with a grin. "He doesn't sound so bad. I mean, who _wouldn't_ think you're cute?"

Her jaw dropped as a torrent of butterflies erupted in her stomach. He said that so easily, so casually… For a terrifying moment she almost returned the compliment, but then bit her tongue and managed to swallow her voice.

Instead, she shot to her feet like the seat had forcefully ejected her. "Um. Uh, well. I… should go to bed. It's pretty late. Come on, Corrine."

"But I'm not tired, Sheena-"

" _Come on, Corrine."_

The creature sighed, then gave Lloyd's hand a parting nuzzle. "Goodnight, Sheena's friend~!"

"Oh," Lloyd said, bewildered. "Okay. Goodnight then, Sheena." She waved back at him stiffly as she headed inside.

Now alone, Lloyd peered up at the moon and rested his jaw on one fist with a sigh.

"...Girls are weird."

* * *

Sara couldn't sleep, either. But that was nothing new.

She had no idea how long she'd spent lying on her back staring at the ceiling. Hours, probably. It had to be late; the others had turned in long ago, and the dim streaks of light the moon had cast across the floor had shifted quite a bit from the last time she'd looked. The fire in the brick hearth across the room had been egged on by her breath a few too many times; only a few smoldering piles of ash remained.

The room had grown cold as a result. Much like the dragons she'd cared for most of her life, there was little that Sara hated more than being cold. So she forced herself to her feet, her joints stiff from inactivity, and over to the pile of spare firewood sitting in the corner. She was just picking up the first piece when the sound of the front door opening made her breath hitch.

She whipped around, brandishing the slab of wood like a weapon above her head, ready to smash it in the intruder's face-

Unvexed, as always, Kratos simply closed the door behind him. He had changed outfits since they last saw each other, and was now donning a white and blue suit accented by a network of golden belts that cris-crossed his chest and torso. In this quiet room, and over Sara's tightly-held breath, the sound of the door's latch clicking closed felt monstrous.

The seraph stared at her, his head held high, expectant. She still had the wood poised and ready over her head, and wanted to let it launch forth _pretty damn badly -_ but she forced her arms to lower slowly, until the log slid from her hands and thunked uselessly to the floor.

"What the _fuck_ ," she began quietly, calmly, like a gathering storm, "are you doing here?"

His garnet eyes thinned. "...I was expecting a far more violent reaction."

The snarl that leaked through her gritted teeth was only partially human. "That can be arranged."

For several moments, he simply looked at her. To the average observer, she would undoubtedly appear totally terrifying - murderous rage did little in the way of making one more approachable - but that's exactly what he did, anyway, when he took a step closer to her and met her embroiled stare with one of resigned purpose.

"If you would give me the chance, Sara," he said softly, "I wish to explain everything."

"You don't need to, Kratos." Saying his name felt strange, foreign. "I already know."

He tilted his head just barely to one side in an unspoken question.

"You trained me," she continued. "This whole time. The fire magic. The amulet. Controlling the demons. You trained me to fight you, didn't you?"

He wanted so badly to avert his eyes from hers, but forced them to stay put. "Yes. I did."

"For Lloyd," she went on, stifling a watery sigh. "It was always to protect Lloyd, wasn't it?"

Kratos nodded. The room was rather dark, and the way the moonlight pooled along the side of her face and down her neck would have, in another lifetime, been dizzyingly enticing.

"When you told me that he was your nephew, I knew you would only be that much more motivated to keep him safe-"

"When did you know?"

He frowned. Finally dropped his gaze to the floor. "There are far too many answers to that question. Which one do you seek?"

"That he's your son."

Kratos' breath caught. His eyes flew up to hers again, searching desperately.

Her question meant that she knew _everything,_ but the look on her face was what truly confirmed it.

Someone had clearly had a nice, long chat with Yuan.

"A week before we met," Kratos admitted. His voice felt like churning, dry gravel. "When I first saw… her grave."

Sara took a few steps backwards. It seemed necessary, like his presence was crushing the air from her lungs. She fidgeted idly with the hem of her skirt as she looked him up and down repeatedly - and he felt a sense of wonderment, of complete disbelief when he saw her start to smile.

"She told me about you, Kratos. Anna told me all about you."

His head started to spin. He closed his eyes for a moment to right the world. "...I did not even know she had a sister."

"Of course not," Sara murmured bitterly. "Keeping my existence a secret was the best way to protect me."

Right. The Angelus Project. Naturally, Sara would have been next in line. "Then how…"

"She wrote me letters, ever since she got taken to the ranch, and for the next three years." And Sara was still smiling at him, somehow. "She told me an underground resistance network delivered the letters for her. That they helped a lot of people from the ranches."

The Renegades. Kratos frowned harder. "I see."

"She could never tell me your name, though," Sara went on quietly. "To protect you. But she said you saved her. You loved her unconditionally. You fought for her when no one else would. You gave her a beautiful son-"

" _Stop_."

Kratos reached for the nearest chair and collapsed into it. He raised one hand to his face, his fingers trembling. "...Please, stop."

"She called you her Hero," Sara finished gently.

He felt sick. Sara's mere presence scalded him like the hottest fire, like spitting lava. Kratos turned away, instead focusing on the distant stars. "...I am far from that title."

"But you rescued her." She kept shaking her head adamantly; he could feel her staring at him, in unrelenting, nauseating admiration. "You saved her from the ranch. From those experiments-"

"Sara."

She stilled. Swallowed hard. "Yeah?"

Slowly, bit by bit, cinnamon eyes met chocolate. "Do you know how she died?"

It took a moment, but she found her voice again. It was low, muddy. "No. Not exactly. All I heard from the other prisoners were vague details. I always figured it was because of the experiments. The Angelus Project. That her body just… gave up."

He didn't have to say anything. He knew this. He _should_ speak, though - should freely offer the truth. Sara deserved only this, as painful as it was - of how he _murdered_ her sister, of the way Anna's blood had stained his sword and splattered to the ground-

"...Kratos?"

"I killed her," he muttered.

She inhaled sharply. Took another step back. "...What? What do you-"

"I killed Anna," he emphasized. Just to make sure they were clear. That she knew every raw, necessary shred of the truth.

"No," Sara was saying fervently. He heard that snarl bubble up again, vibrating carnally at the back of her throat. "No, wait. Just… _Why_?"

The past surged forth. Kratos' mind was no longer _here._ It reached far back, to a dark day, full of so many things he wished he could forget. He absently gripped the edges of the wooden chair he sat on, like it anchored him to the earth.

"...I could not protect her."

"No. Kvar." Sara was shaking her head firmly. "I was there with you, that night in Asgard. You said Kvar turned her into the monster. _Kvar_ did it."

"We were always pursued."  
"I know that."

"Eventually, Kvar and his men caught up with us."

"I know that, too."

He spoke so softly, in such a harsh whisper that he wondered if she would hear at all: "I… couldn't fight them all. Kvar attacked. He removed her Exsphere, and she… turned into a monster."

Though it looked like it almost ended her, Sara nodded. "Keep going."

"She hung on," Kratos heard himself say. "Her consciousness remained. Anna begged me to… but I couldn't-"

"Lloyd was there?"

"Yes." Was his voice wavering? His eyes watering? Surely, not. After that day, he didn't think it was possible anymore. "She lost control, and tried to attack him, so I…"

Sara's knees buckled. She threw out one hand towards the windowsill, digging her fingers into its edge to remain standing.

"Oh, Kratos. Oh, gods, _no-_ "

"I had to defend our son." Kratos stood, somehow. The sound of his clothes shifting felt deafening. He seemed to tower above Sara; she looked ready to shatter at his slightest word, so small and fragile-

He corrected this immediately.

Kratos sank to one knee. He gently took her hand and brought it to his forehead.

"I killed her, Sara."

His eyes slammed closed. His throat quavered. He kept gripping Sara's fingers with all the strength he dared to muster, and pressed his brow into her knuckles.

"...Forgive me."

Sara said nothing. He could feel her staring down at him. His wings burst from his spine, flaring and swaying softly, filling the dim room with crystalline, ice-blue light; he wanted her to see _all_ of him, so that no stone between them was left unturned.

"She and Lloyd fell down the cliffs of the Iselia Forest," Kratos continued raggedly, "and I… I couldn't find them. I'm sorry. There were so many monsters. I thought-"

"Get up," Sara commanded.

Her steely voice crashed into him like a whip, lashing against his back. He felt so small; in a way, it was nothing but comforting, appropriate. Kratos simply held her hand tighter.

"It was the same sword," he managed. "The same I lent you, that day we met. That ended your dragons. And it was raining-"

"Get. Up." Her snarl resurfaced. The moonlight waned abruptly, casting the room in churning shadow. " _Now._ "

Kratos rose to his feet. Familiar emptiness began to settle over him once again, numbing every bit of him, like the coldest breeze. He let go of her hand; the door felt like welcome escape. He made for it, his auburn head bowed.

"I understand," he said. "I shall leave."

But her hand shot forward and took hold of his wrist. And though it made no sense whatsoever, he heard her raspy voice say: "I'm so sorry."

... _What?_

"That must've killed you," Sara continued. And her voice was impossibly soft, impossibly tender. "To have to do that, to lose everything… I'm so sorry."

No. Just… _no_.

There was _no way_ she was saying that. She clearly must have misunderstood him somewhere.

It took forever for his dry throat to work: "But I am the one that-"

" _Stop it._ " Her eyes locked onto his magnetically, though they were full of tears. "You did what you had to do. None of it was your fault, Kratos. I know. She told me what they did to her."

Sara kept holding onto his wrist. And her fingers worked their way beneath his sleeve, and the edge of his glove, until their tips traced along the base of his palm in unbelievable, comforting caresses.

"It's taken fifteen years, but now I know. I can rest. In the end, Anna died with someone she loved. That's enough for me."

"How can you-" Kratos remembered abruptly the last time he felt this helpless, this vulnerable. And it involved a tiny, squirming brown-haired bundle in his arms. "I helped form the Desians. I helped create the program that ruined your lives. That ruined _her-"_

"Don't _ever_ compare yourself to them," Sara spat. "I know who you are. And you are _nothing_ like them, Kratos."

He couldn't stand the way she was touching him. He lurched his hand back. Took a step towards the door. Only barely managed to avoid opening it and darting into the night.

"...I am a coward."

" _Shut up_ _."_ Sara positioned herself in front of the door, like she'd heard his thoughts. She shoved hard at his chest. "Get over yourself! Is this how you want to honor her memory? By constantly crying about all of your failures?"

"I did fail," he muttered. "I failed her. I failed Lloyd. I failed _you-"_

"Listen to yourself!" Sara's arm raised, like her fist wanted to crash into his face. But she held fast. "You tried, dammit! _That's_ what matters! Be proud of the difficult things you were able to do. Be proud of how you _loved_ her, Kratos. She called you her Hero for a reason. I _know_ she did! I read all about it!"

He kept looking away, scowling, barely standing. Tried his damnedest to ignore her.

Remained clearly unconvinced.

So Sara took in a purposeful breath, and decided at once to brandish her most potent offense:

"'It's happening,'" she recited. "'A few days from now, I'm leaving this place with my Hero. Can you believe it? He is so kind and gentle, so understanding. A bit awkward at times, but that doesn't matter. We have grown close, and all that you need to know is that he's going to save me.'"

Anna's words. These were _Anna's_ words-

"I memorized all of her letters word-for-word, Kratos, and don't doubt for one _second_ I'll keep going until you believe me."

He gripped the chair tighter, until its unwilling edges threatened to splinter in his palms. But he said nothing, though each dip and bounce of her raspy voice flayed his skin, crushed his chest.

"'His kindness always overwhelms me," Sara went on. "'I don't know how I got so lucky to meet him. He's so strong and compassionate, so focused on ensuring our safety, though he's gone against all he's ever known just to save me.'"

More silence. Then Sara issued forth a caustic, challenging laugh:

"Alright. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Kratos finally turned to face her. His fingers formed indecisive, rigid claws that wanted to smother her mouth as much as they desired to cradle her face. He started to plead for silence once more - but he was too late, and far too powerless to stop her:

"'Our little boy came kicking and screaming into this world yesterday, and Sis, he's so beautiful, I wish you were here to see him. I think he looks more like his daddy, but daddy swears he looks like me. It was so amazing to hold my little boy for the first time. And to see him in his daddy's arms for the first time, too-"

" _Stop,"_ Kratos begged, drowning, scrambling for air.

She did. Her breaths were heaving, but she stayed silent, and stared fearlessly into his elusive, dark eyes.

"Please stop," he repeated softly. "I can't, Sara. ...No more."

He watched silently as her hands made their way to his chest - gently, this time. Her palms pressed there, just beneath both of his collarbones.

"It's okay," Sara said. She peered over his shoulders, at his shimmering wings; their muted light cast soft shadows across her freckled face. "It's a choice. She always told me happiness was a choice. Choose the good stuff. Choose the best world. It doesn't have to be so bad, Kratos."

She smelled bright and wonderful - so comforting, so familiar. The gleam of her hair in the moonlight was unbearably gorgeous, as was the soft shine of her dark skin. Her forgiveness, though, was by far the hardest to witness.

Kratos felt like he were balancing on the edge of a knife - and faced suddenly with an impossible chance at a life he didn't deserve.

"There's so much good, too," she said unsteadily. "I've read it all. Please, just let things be okay. I can't be the only one." Her fingertips curled into his chest. "I can't be okay all alone."

He held his breath. Closed his eyes. His wings vanished, coating them both in darkness once more.

His betrayal. All of those secrets. The curse of those wings. The gash he'd left on Lloyd's head, and the grave at the boy's house, and… the list went on endlessly.

But after _all_ of this - if Sara was okay, then… maybe Kratos could be, too.

He exhaled slowly, allowing doubt to swim away with with his breath. "Well. What now?"

Sara laughed. It was kind of a snort, actually, and entirely out of place. And it shattered his tension like a rock through glass.

"Are… are you seriously asking _me_ that?" One of her eyebrows shot up curiously, skeptically. "Why are you even here? Wouldn't it piss your leader Yiggy off to know that you're with me?"

He frowned at her hopelessly. "... _Lord Yggdrasill_ is unaware of my presence here."

One of her hands on his chest formed a fist. Except for the middle finger, of course, which raised up at his face. "Shut up. I'm bad with names."

"I must admit," Kratos began, looking for all the world like a scolded, shameful schoolboy, "when it comes to you, Sara, I… tend to do things against my better judgment."

She shrugged, carefree, and stuck out her bottom lip. "Love can make you do stupid things."

One corner of his mouth twitched. "Stay with Lloyd. Guide him. Guard him. See him through until the end."

He watched her face ease into a familiar, wonderful mask of determination. "That was my intention from the beginning."

"There are things I still must do to ensure your mission's success." _Things,_ right. That would have to do. "Things that require my loyalty to Lord Yggdrasill."

Her eyes thinned. "So you're really on our side, then?"

"You know only half of my story, Sara." He leaned forward a little, into her palms. "The other half awaits you at a later time."

" _More_ secrets, Kratos?"

He started to say something, but then thought better of it. And instead just nodded, with a long, tired, four thousand year-old sigh.

Sara crossed her arms and frowned at him intently. "Just answer one question for me before you go."

He stilled, his chest tightening uncomfortably.

There were so many things she had the right to ask now, that she by all rights _should_ question him over - his very loyalty to Anna? His reasons for aligning with Cruxis in the first place? Why he had chosen to abandon his son?-

"What's with you and belts? This outfit is ridiculous."

The seraph's mouth hung open. "...Er. Well. It is-"

"How do you even get in and out of it?" Sara started tugging at the various belts, her eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Like, what if you have to pee?"

Kratos helplessly scratched the back of his head. "Th-there are garment customs-"

 _Snap._ Sara managed to undo one of them. "Ohh, I see. So it goes like this..." She grinned triumphantly. "Alright, that's kind of hot, actually-"

Kratos took hold of both her wrists and immobilized them before he ended up half-naked.

"Is this truly what you want?" he asked softly.

"I told you before - I don't care about your secrets." She paused, and he watched intently as one edge of her lips twitched into a cynical smirk. "But I'll admit I thought you were being over-dramatic when you dropped your whole 'there is much you don't know about me' thing. Like maybe you were just in a ton of debt. Or you had some psycho exes out for your balls."

"More's the pity," Kratos mumbled morbidly.

"But this, well… You _definitely_ weren't exaggerating _."_

"Unfortunately." His thumbs eased into her palms, and drifted slowly back and forth, from pinky to thumb. "This is just the beginning, Sara."

"I know. Whatever you tell me to do, I'll do it. For Lloyd, and for fixing this mess of a world." She sent him a positively infuriating wink. "Even if it means almost killing you again."

Kratos deliberately cleared his throat. "...I had the situation under control."

"Bull _shit_ you did." Her grin was arrogant, mischievous. "I could've burned your head clean off-"

"Merely an act for Lord Yggdrasill."

"Pfffft. Whatever, jerk-face. You got owned."

He brought her hand to his chin, and muffled both his words and a snide smirk against her curled fingers. "I see your vocabulary is as lackluster as ever."

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not wearing an outfit that belongs in a bondage dungeon."

"...Humph."

Her lighthearted smile sobered. She stared down at their linked hands.

"...Thank you." She sucked in a quick breath. "In all seriousness, though - thank you, Kratos. For saving her. For protecting Lloyd. For having the strength to… f-for doing what she wanted."

Kratos nodded. Then he sighed - and truly, wholly straightened unburdened shoulders for the first time in fifteen years.

She abruptly let go of him and gestured to the front door. "Now. Get out of here before you get us _both_ killed."

Kratos started towards the doorknob, but stopped just before twisting it open. "Sara. Lloyd must keep his distance from me. You must not tell him about me, for his own sake."

"I won't," she assured. "Not until you're ready. I promise."

Slowly, he opened the door. He wanted many things equally - to kiss her. To love her once more, with all the strength his body could offer. And to run far away, never to see her again.

So he settled for: "Two days. I will return to you. ...Keep him safe."

She squared her shoulders and smiled a little, in that familiar way that wordlessly said _I got this._ "Always. No matter what. Take care of yourself."

His wings reappeared, raining drops of light onto the ground. Kratos took two steps forward, then launched into the air, melding with the night, vanishing among the stars.

Sara sank back against the closed door. Her hands flew to her face, where they covered both a joyous, exalted grin and a strained sob. She slid slowly to the floor, knees pulled up to her chest.

"I-it's all good now, Sissy," she choked against one palm. "It's all _so_ good."

* * *

Zelos Wilder had never thought this hard about paperclips before.

He sat hunched at a grand marble desk, sky-blue eyes narrowed intently as both his thumbs and forefingers coaxed a pair of the aforementioned thin metal objects into something resembling a butterfly. Two wings, and a kind of lopsided oval-shaped body - yep, perfect. Really, he needed a third paperclip to form antennae, because the whole thing just felt incomplete otherwise.

He set his jaw; it was thin, graceful, and covered in smooth peach skin, just like the rest of his lithe figure. He squared a pair of bare, sculpted shoulders. His gaze shot to the left, where a young woman sat in rich purple robes. She had gorgeous flowing brown hair that fell in thick curls down a graceful back. Her green eyes had spent little time looking anywhere other than the side of his face; this was nothing new to him.

She smiled wantonly now that she had his attention. Zelos noticed immediately that her nose tended to wrinkle with the curl of her lips. She puffed out her already ample chest a little more, too, like that would garner more of his favor.

She had the same packet of paper sitting in front of her that had been forced upon him. And really, he just wanted her paperclip.

Zelos smiled back. Winked once. He leaned a little closer to the girl; her soft face fairly exploded in a blush that tried valiantly to match his gleaming crimson hair.

Surreptitiously, seductively, he slid one gloved arm in her direction; she watched it with airtight intensity. Zelos extended his first finger. Planted it on top of the packet of paper beside her curled, anxious hands. And slowly, little by little, dragged the whole thing across the desk until it came to rest in front of him.

He nibbled excitedly on his lower lip as he removed the spare paperclip. The woman let out an astonished, embroiled scoff that he ignored completely. He was still grinning as he completed his butterfly and raised it before his eyes, antennae and all. Zelos shot the girl a curious glance; her green-eyed stare now darted everywhere else, to the other higher-ups in the room, to the few empty velvet-red chairs, to the Pope himself as he droned on in a dreadful, familiar tone about _this_ and _that_ and literally everything Zelos gave no shits about.

Zelos had just started to make his butterfly's wings flap when he heard that same familiar voice call his name: "...-osen One? What is your opinion on this matter?"

Dozen of Tethe'alla's most important eyes now zoomed in on him with scalding calculation.

Well, shit.

Maybe he should've been paying a _little_ bit more attention.

Zelos swiftly set his butterfly down and flipped through a few of the pages in front of him. He pursed his lips, tilted his chin with scholarly certainty, and nodded like he knew all the secrets to life itself.

"Hmm, indeed. Clearly, this situation should be approached with much care and caution." Yeah, sure. That'd work.

A hushed murmur and a chorus of nodding heads meant he'd said something right. Zelos exhaled an involuntary sigh of relief as one side of his mouth tugged into a victorious grin.

"The Chosen speaks the truth," a voice somewhere to his left said. Belonging to some duke or second removed cousin of the Pope or a dude who just happened to be sleeping with the right woman- "The travelers from Sylvarant should be brought before the King."

Oh, _that_ was what everyone had been talking about?

Okay, so Zelos was a little interested now. Miss Green-Eyes was sending him a glare backed by the fires of hell as he sat up elegantly and steepled his hands beneath his chin.

"When are they set to arrive?" Zelos asked smoothly.

"Within the hour," whoever answered.

And the Chosen shot immediately to his feet, using his gloved hand to sweep long hair ceremoniously over one shoulder. "Well, then. I should be getting ready to greet them, neh?"

The Pope's tall golden hat squelched to one side over a wrinkled, moist forehead. "B-but, surely, the King himself should-"

"I'll be there for moral support." Zelos strode gracefully past a host of seated officials and made for the auditorium's exit. "Tell His Majesty to expect my presence, what was it? Within the hour?"

"Y-yes, Chosen One. I shall join you as well-"

"Mmkay, sure." Damn, he forgot his sculpture… he waved at them, like returning to his seat and swiping the butterfly into one of the pockets of his loose white pants was totally, 100% normal. "This has been most _illuminating_. Thank you all."

More useless murmurs swam across his ears as he left the auditorium. A whole bunch of crushed red velvet carpet and opulent white marble walls swept by his constantly astute gaze. And Zelos continued onward alone, smiling with practiced grace, idly adjusting the white headband across his forehead like it were a permanent fixture. Which, really, it was. _Something_ had to tame all of his thick volcanic hair. He left it long on purpose; for whatever reason, it seemed in favor with the ladies. Even though it outshone all of their own heads pretty stupendously.

For the past few months Tethe'alla's King had been suffering from a mysterious, gradually-worsening illness. The thin, bearded man hadn't been truly well for awhile now, and permitted audiences only under the most pressing and interesting of circumstances. Which this had been deemed, apparently; Zelos made for the throne room and cracked open the side door just a little, so that he could stick one blue eye up to the opening and evaluate the situation a little before making his presence known. Zelos Wilder was a lot of things, but a fool was not one of them.

The Plump Pope (Zelos had come up with that nickname himself and was rather proud of it) and a handful of his gleaming knights were just entering through the main doors. Of course. Couldn't be too careful, especially when dealing with what everyone considered the 'savages from the declining world.' Zelos had never been to Sylvarant, and hadn't ever wanted to. It sounded _super_ boring. And probably smelly, not unlike Meltokio's own slums.

From this angle, he could only see part of this group of so-called _savages_. He recognized Sheena instantly; he'd know that fuzzy black ponytail and those luscious curves anywhere. Just behind her stood a younger kid with wild silver hair, and a twentysomething woman in pretty demure orange robes that _had_ to be related to the kid, judging by the same frown on her elegant face and the similar pearly tint to her hair.

And then there was a teenage boy in a red… _something_. And he had these baggy black pants, and thick windswept chocolate-brown hair, and - okay, yeah. Those really were suspenders. Zelos bit his lips together and stifled a chortle. _Suspenders._ Savages, indeed.

It was hard to make out the other two, so he ventured the door open just a tiny bit more. A fiery orange head instantly caught his attention. It was attached to a tall, terrifying woman with dark skin and a pair of gauntlets with deadly spikes on them. In all honesty she probably had more muscle mass than Zelos did, which simultaneously fanned the flames of his interest and sent up plenty of blips on his _Don't Fuck With That_ radar.

Between Miss Terrifying and Kid Suspenders stood the last of them - a waifish blonde girl. With crystalline, sunset-hued wings.

That had to be _their_ Chosen. Zelos widened his eyes in a bit of genuine shock.

Someone had started talking; it took him a few moments to realize it was the King. "Let us begin. Where is the Chosen of Mana?"

Zelos grinned, and threw open the door with a grandiose swing of one arm.

"Right here, your Majesty."

* * *

A/N: *Inhales*

ZELOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

That is all.


	36. Novus (New)

Chapter Thirty-Six

 _Novus_

* * *

 _It's like I don't know how to live; I'm afraid to  
_ _As the sun begins to fall, I hear her calling out to me  
_ _She's saying, 'hurry, it's one more day gone'_

* * *

For several seconds, Lloyd felt terribly confused.

Sheena had said that Tethe'alla's Chosen was a _guy._ And what burst through that broad, eggshell-white door at first looked anything but - none of the men in Iselia had ever worn hair longer than maybe their shoulders, at best. And their outfits had most definitely not been _pink._ That color meant _girls_ , right? It took a few hard blinks for Lloyd to correctly place all that gleaming red hair on a male frame.

"Oh, great," Lloyd heard Sheena mumble with all the excitement of a pallbearer.

Lloyd knew he was staring outrightly, but couldn't stop himself. He felt his jaw drop. "That's… really the Chosen?"

"Apologies, Your Majesty," the newcomer announced, with a graceful, sweeping bow. His smile was crooked and decidedly mischievous. His crimson hair swayed forward over his peculiar soft face like tall grass caught in a breeze. "Please, continue. I take it you are feeling well today?"

The King continued, in a thin, airy voice: "These travellers from the declining world were just about to explain their presence in my castle." Though the older man's face was rather withered, and sunken in at all the wrong angles, the regal, confident tilt to his bearded chin instantly commanded several measures of respect. Lloyd inadvertently straightened his back. Sylvarant had no unified government - certainly no king. And to think that this man commanded _all_ of the flourishing world was enough to make Lloyd's head spin.

"I apologize as well, Your Majesty," Sheena began, tucking her chin firmly against her chest in a gesture of both respect and remorse. "From the bottom of my heart."

At the far end of the room, just to the right of the King and his grand golden throne, an amused laugh echoed through the still room.

Zelos futilely attempted to hide his grin behind one palm. "From your _bottom,_ neh?"

The Pope balked again. Sheena took on a ravenous air that easily rivaled the darkest of Sara's demonic rages. Speaking of Sara, she bit her lips together and muffled an uncontrollable laugh. It earned her an array of disbelieving looks, to which she simply shrugged and sent Tethe'alla's Chosen a wave of approval.

"As you can see," Sheena continued deliberately, "I have failed my mission to assassinate Sylvarant's Chosen. But I do not return to you without promise." Slowly, gingerly, Sheena rose to her feet and steadied her wavering throat. She gestured one arm to what remained of Colette; the blonde girl stood still, except for the constant, soft flutter of her wings. "The Chosen has not fully become an angel. Her companions have come here seeking a way for the Chosen to become human once more." She paused, and inhaled a purposeful breath. "I believe it would be in Tethe'alla's best interest, too, for the Chosen to no longer remain an empty angelic vessel."

" _This is absurd,_ " came the Pope's grating voice.

Lloyd immediately turned around to face its source. The Pope had himself quite a belly, and a thick brown mustache that twitched beneath a bulbous nose with each incensed word he spoke. Lloyd felt if he'd been any closer, he would've been showered with a rain of spit, or sensed the heat from the older man's flaming cherry cheeks.

And Lloyd really didn't understand what exactly a Pope was, or what one _did_. The word itself sounded pretty hilarious. Lloyd smiled a little. Pope. _Poooope-_

"This is not the consensus of the Church of Martel," said Pope went on. In his left hand he gripped a curled golden staff, and pointedly slammed its base down against the carpeted floor. "It is our wish that the Chosen of Sylvarant be eliminated with no questions asked!"

"Is it, now?" Zelos countered instantly.

In seconds, he had garnered all the gazes in the room. Including both the King and Sheena; to Zelos, the former was basically just as important as the latter. Anything that attracted that voluptuous banshee's attention was something Zelos wanted to pretty much constantly do more of. He sneered and thinned a pair of sharp, fleeting cerulean eyes.

"I must wonder, how can the Church make such a decision without my knowledge? Surely, you did not mean to ignore the Chosen, did you?"

The Pope's knights looked over one another, muttering to themselves from behind emerald metal faceplates. And the Pope himself seemed to fight for suddenly elusive words.

"Shit's getting real," Sara murmured, eyes wide, fingers tense.

Raine nodded. "Internal political strife. How interesting."

And Genis, probably the least intimidated by the idea of royalty or Popes at all, promptly shoved himself forward towards the King, one small hand pressed earnestly against his chest. "Please, Sir King." ...Was that terminology right? Probably not, but it sounded pretty okay, so he kept going - "We have heard that Tethe'alla's scientists are studying angels and Cruxis Crystals. We want them to help Colette." His voice wavered just a little, but he brought it together quickly. "She's our good friend. Please understand."

And Lloyd, 100% in agreeance with literally all of that, stepped forward too. "Any information you have would help us very much. Please let us be on our way. I swear we will not cause any trouble-"

 _Slam!_ The Pope once again crashed his staff into the floor, to the point that its impact rattled up his arm and just slightly displaced his heavy, thick religious robes. "Silence, Sylvarant savages!"

Lloyd frowned. He sensed that Genis didn't feel too great about that remark either, but he kept his place beside Lloyd. To his left, though, he heard a bit of a low growl, like a dragon sizing up its prey - and he saw Sara take a step towards the Pope with carnivorous purpose.

"I'll show you _savages-"_

"Your Majesty," Raine interjected with erudite certainty. Tact and decor mattered now, over will. "I can assure you that no harm will come to Tethe'alla from our presence here. Please allow us to journey among your lands, for the sake of returning our Chosen to her human form."

The King's tense face softened just a little. He glanced at Zelos. "What is your opinion on this matter, Chosen?"

Zelos folded his arms across his chest and pricked one immaculately-trimmed eyebrow. "So what you're telling me is that you've decided to abandon Sylvarant?"

Raine breathed a terse sigh. And both Genis and Lloyd grimaced and dropped their gazes to the floor.

"If Miss Angel there doesn't become Martel's vessel," Zelos continued, "then Sylvarant will decline, right?"

"Saving our friend is most important," Lloyd heard himself say. "That's why we've come here, and that's what we're going to do."

For a few seconds, Zelos felt genuinely taken aback. This was _extremely_ hard to do, and not all something he was used to experiencing. It intrigued him ravenously. He started to smile. To choose one life over a whole world? Who _were_ these crazy people?

He simply _had to know._ "Your Majesty, I suggest we allow them passage into our lands. And I will be more than happy to accompany them as a peacekeeper and escort."

"But-" the Pope stammered, on the verge of apoplexy, "surely my knights would be better suited to-"

"The Chosen will do a fine job," he King announced decisively. "However - I command both the Chosen and the travellers to offer their prayers at the Martel temple before departure. The Goddess' favor is necessary in this venture." He shifted a little in his seat, like it were making him uncomfortable, then slowly got to his feet; one of his aides darted to his side and helped him stand. "If no one has any further items to discuss, I will take my leave."

"His Majesty is wise as always," Zelos said smoothly, with another elegant bow. "Please rest and recover. Let us convene in the Crimson Room, and I will personally show these travellers to the Temple."

* * *

Sara was probably being a little obnoxious about watching out for Lloyd, but she didn't care. Being escorted around a strange castle by a quintuplet of heavily-armored, axe-wielding knights did _not_ sit well with her, to say the least. And while the kid seemed more enthralled and amazed than anything - really, the grandiosity of this place could _not_ be understated, especially to citizens of the declining world - Sara kept her demons ready and waiting at the back of her mind, like bouncing, flickering shadows, just in case things went south and one of those axes made its way anywhere near Lloyd's neck.

Sara had become _pretty damn good_ at controlling Niflheim's uppity residents - enough that their demands felt like mere whispers rather than overwhelming, compulsive urges. Before, at the first sign of any demonic presence, fear had spun her mind into a frenzy, scrambling her focus and plucking her nerves like tense, loaded strings.

But now, she'd started to recognize their voices. Sara's thoughts returned to what Kratos had told her during their heated battle at the Tower of Salvation: ' _Use them. Make them obey you.'_ And how handy that advice had been; escaping their influence was already a good enough method of control.

But _using_ them? Sara had no idea that was even possible. But yep. Kratos had been right once again. Which was approximately #10395739 #$! on the list of things she owed him for.

Demons had their own personalities, much like people - and figuring out which was which, and what exactly they wanted of her had helped tremendously. From what Sara could tell so far, there were four voices - each distinct, with different inflections, different talons that scraped at the back of her skull.

The first felt like pure, sweltering rage - gnashing, raging shouts that craved retribution.

Another wanted to cause chaos simply to see others suffer; inflicting pain was mere entertainment.

The third played on vulnerabilities, stabbing her heart with a white-hot spire of fear, making her doubt every action, making her hesitate.

The fourth was the quietest. The fourth hardly spoke. When it did, it commanded the other three, in some sort of language that wasn't a language at all. It never gave its own opinion.

And somehow that made it the worst.

Sara honestly kind of welcomed their presence now - after all, they clearly gave her a supreme stat boost. She remembered those smoky wings that had burst from her shoulders, that had filled her with such an impossible, inhuman strength. The strength to protect, to preserve what mattered most to her. In the right setting, and with her unwavering focus, Niflheim's power felt nothing but convenient.

One of those knights opened a large wooden door and gestured for their group to enter. Lloyd had actually been at the front of them all, with Colette and Genis just beside him. The brown-haired teen began to walk fearlessly through the doorway - on the other side of which could be any number of unexpected, deadly traps like swirling saw blades or chopping axes or poison darts or-

Sara mentally said _fuck that_ and nudged Lloyd out of the way, replacing his footsteps with her own.

"New rule:" she began, poking her first finger squarely in the center of his chest. "Sara always goes through doors first. Mmkay, kid?"

Lloyd blinked at her. Raised his eyebrows curiously. "Uh." A shrug, and a slightly exasperated nod. "Yeah, Sara. Sure."

"Good answer."

They filed inside. Tethe'alla's Chosen was waiting for them on one of the room's three couches (and wouldn't you know it, every one of them was _crimson_ ). He had one leg casually crossed over the other, and his elbow was propped up on the back of the couch cushions. His face was rather different than it had been moments ago; as he watched the knights leave, his cerulean eyes looked swift and sharp, almost deadly, until the last knight passed through the door and eased it closed behind him.

Then the Chosen's face broke out in a beaming grin. He stood immediately and approached Sheena, his arms held out beside him expectantly. "Hello again, hunny-"

And Sheena walked right past him and made for the nearest couch. She folded her arms over her chest and sat down, pointedly looking everywhere else in the room, her chin tilted up and away in a snide snub.

Oh, well then. They'd met before. Among _other_ things, maybe?… Sheena tended to be awkward in general, but especially so around certain guys.

"This is Zelos," Sheena grumbled. "He's Tethe'alla's Chosen."

And the subject of her speech sauntered forward, using one hand to flick his ruby-red hair back over one shoulder. The plentiful locks were straight until their ends, where they twirled gracefully into languid curls that bounced and sprang with his every movement.

"Yo! You're finally here," he said casually. Still smirking, his gaze settled first on Lloyd. "I take it you're Lloyd, right?"

The teen's face was flat as a pancake. "Give me your name, and I'll give you mine."

Genis sighed. But Zelos now wore a sort-of impressed smirk.

"So _dashing_ ," came his chipper response. Zelos grinned and thumbed at his own chest. "I am the great Zelos Wilder. But you can just call me Zelos."

"The…" Lloyd blinked. "The _great…_?"

"We're going to be traveling together for a while apparently," Zelos went on, "so let's be friends, mmkay?"

Genis painfully rolled his eyes. "He sounds like he doesn't take _anything_ seriously-"

"Let's see," Zelos cut in, much to the younger Sage's detestment, "putting aside the two guys… this gorgeous beauty is Raine, right?"

The Professor's glare felt powerful enough to slice him in half, but all she did was nod stiffly. And maybe grip her staff a little tighter, too.

"And this cool cutie here would be Colette," he added, gesturing to the other Chosen, who appropriately ignored him entirely and stared blankly ahead at the far wall.

Now, he shifted his gaze to Sara. And much like Sheena, her arms were crossed over her chest, and her eyes were slitted, predatory. "So this must be Sara, miss fiery temptress."

Heh.

Okay, so - Sara kind of liked that nickname. _Fiery temptress_ … yeah, she could totally make that work. She smiled with half of her mouth. One canine tooth stuck out over her lower lip. Her claws shot out just as she extended one hand in a greeting.

"I just gotta ask… _Zelos_? How the hell do you spell that? Is it like, all fancy, with a _Ts?_ Or a _Z?"_

He gave her claws a quick, furtive glance. Then he threw his gleaming head back and laughed. "Just a Z, my lovely. Nothing fancy at all. I'm a simple man of simple pleasures, I can assure you."

"Sweet. _Z_ it is." She finally shook his hand.

The contact instantly made Sara tense, like a brewing storm, or lightning about to strike. She watched the Chosen's face intently. Then she squeezed hard. _Really_ hard, though she didn't mean to, almost like her fingers curled in of their own accord; her claws stopped just before they pierced the back of his hand. But Zelos didn't let any emotion show outrightly whatsoever; when she let go, he absently flexed his fingers back and forth like nearly getting his bones crushed were perfectly normal, and nothing out of the ordinary.

"So," Sara began pointedly. "Why did you offer to come with us?"

"Well, I'll say this, now that the Pope's minions are gone: I have literally no intention of reporting on you whatsoever. So you can forget about all of that." He waved said hand once, dismissively, and took his place once again on the couch beside Sheena, who seemed to shift as far away from him as she could.

"The Pope and I don't necessarily _get along_ ," Zelos explained, still smiling knowingly. "I wanted to piss him off, basically. Plus, if I hadn't stepped in, you'd be stuck with his subordinates. And they're _so_ boring."

"So…" Lloyd found his voice, though it was clearly still addled, perplexed. "You're not going to report us?"

"Nope." Zelos gestured towards Colette. His lighthearted expression dimmed for just a moment, becoming wary, shadowed. "The whole angel thing… We've got a common purpose, really - I don't want to end up like her either. So finding a way to fix miss Cool Cutie is in my interest, too."

"But you're Tethe'alla's Chosen," Genis argued. "Don't you want to save Tethe'alla?"

"Tethe'alla doesn't need _saving,"_ Zelos said instantly, and with an obstinate frown. "As a friendly reminder, I could have you all killed with simply a word." He shot to his feet and held out his arms again, as if expecting to receive a hug. "But that's water under the bridge, right? Let's be on our way!"

"You're weird," Genis mumbled.

And Zelos thinned his eyes at the youngest Sage. "You're an obnoxious brat, you know that?"

Raine deliberately stepped in front of her brother. "I believe the King requested that we meet again at the Martel Temple. Should we not be heading there at once?"

"Sure, sure," Zelos agreed. Then made for the door. And for several seconds it looked like he were about to open it and stride forward into the adjoining hallway - but he paused abruptly and turned around. "Just one more thing."

He kept straight at Lloyd. And the teen grimaced, his earthen eyes popping wide.

"I can't help but notice… that's an interesting Exsphere."

Lloyd instinctively covered the back of his left hand with his right palm. He frowned. And tried to think of something to say back, but Sara's growling voice went first:

"That's none of your business."

Lloyd looked up at her, a little startled at her sudden change of tone. Zelos laughed and held up his hands in prostration. "Hey now, I meant nothing by it. On this side, Exspheres are only given to those with connections to the King. Or me, of course. I was born holding mine." He passed a few fingertips along the ruby gem on his chest, situated in a diamond-shaped golden Key Crest positioned just below his collarbones.

"That's my proof of being the Chosen. Just wondering how you, eh… _commoners_ came by yours."

Lloyd looked at Sara again. She glanced at him at the same time. They seemed to exchange some sort of unheard dialogue that ended in a mutual nod.

Then they both turned their silent stares to Zelos with identical flat frowns, crossed arms, and raised eyebrows.

The Chosen sighed. "Man… Sheena, come on. Explain to these guys that I'm a sincere and trustworthy man."

Sheena's fists planted firmly on her hips. "Stop lying."

"How _rude!_ " He fished through one of the pockets of his baggy white pants, and procured a rather pathetic-looking wire metal sculpture of a butterfly. "I even brought you a gift to celebrate our long-awaited reunion." And he held it out to her in one palm, looking at her with _the biggest_ puppy-dog eyes, and his bottom lip pouting pathetically forward.

Sheena stared at it, looking equal parts genuinely surprised and completely disgusted.

"You don't have to hide your feelings for me, my little ninja-"

"I'll give you a _feeling_ :" She smacked his hand. The butterfly went sailing into the air, only to catch one of its wings around an ornate golden sconce on the far wall. "Of my fist in your _face-"_

Genis slowly held up one finger. "Um. Excuse me. What is the relationship between you two?"

" _There isn't one,"_ Sheena hissed. But Zelos said, simultaneously:

"She loves me!"

* * *

Peculiar shadows darkened the entrance to the Temple. And it wasn't like Genis had never been in one of these before; both in Palmacosta and in Iselia, the Martel Temples had seemed just a bit less heavy. Less haunted… although maybe that was his imagination.

He kept his eyes wide as they all continued inside. Genis didn't know what the king had wanted of them here, other than to "offer their prayers" - and that meant _what_ exactly? And offer where, and why, and how… ? Were Tethe'alla's prayer rituals the same as Sylvarant's, or-

"This must be the altar," his sister was saying, with a tinge of breathlessness to her curious voice. She bowed before a pulpit. Genis did the same, followed swiftly by Lloyd, Sheena, Genis and Sara.

Well, okay. Good. Genis didn't know exactly what he was praying _for_ -but if it was good enough for his sister and for his friends, it had to be good enough for him. He bowed his silver head. And he mumbled a few traditional prayers to Martel, as he had every day since his memories began in Iselia.

Silence reigned. Genis closed his eyes. So did the others - except for Colette, obviously. But at the end of the grand marble hall they'd entered from, the front doors suddenly pushed open. A sound followed them through; scraping, like the soft movement of something heavy along smooth tile. It made deafening echoes bounce repeatedly off of the Temple's opulent stone walls.

That noise came from a massive, meticulously-cut log scraping against the floor. Easily fifteen feet in length, and four feet across.

And it was being impossibly pulled forward on one end by a thick leather strap - and a tiny, pale girl with long pink pigtails.

Lloyd turned around to see her first, followed quickly by the others. They each wore varying expressions of astonishment; a girl who couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds soaking wet was somehow carrying that massive log.

"Wow," Lloyd said.

"Wow," Genis echoed, for an entirely different reason.

The girl had blue eyes, only they were partually hidden beneath strands of pink bangs. She wore a simple, navy-blue dress with grey gloves and boots. And there was literally nothing about her that Genis didn't like. He felt his jaw drop. Then he nibbled nervously on his lower lip. His feet started to shift awkwardly of their own accord.

"Oh, Presea," one of the Temple's priests said kindly. He approached the girl with a smile. "Thank you for your hard work. This sacred wood will be used in today's prayer rituals. Please bring it to the castle."

"Understood," came her instant, rather deadpan reply. As she turned around, the dim light caught against something in the center of her chest, just below her neck - a small, shiny red gem.

An Exsphere.

"Did you guys see that?" Lloyd asked, glancing around at the others.

"Yeah," Genis blurted. The log started to scrape along the floor again, and he was kind of glad, because it muffled the furious butterflies flitting about his stomach. "She's cute."

"She had an Exsphere," Lloyd continued, frowning. "And it didn't look like she had a Key Crest, either." He looked over at Zelos. "Why would a girl like that have an Exsphere?"

The Chosen raised both his hands. "Hey, don't look at me. I told you it's not commonplace here. Why a kid like that would have one is beyond me."

"You're terribly helpful," Raine grumbled.

Zelos grinned. "I try."

"Lloyd," Raine went on, "our next destination is the Imperial Research Academy, correct? Perhaps we should ask that girl, Presea, to come with us. It's possible she is unaware of the risks of wearing an Exsphere without a Key Crest. Maybe the scientists there could help her."

"Yes!" Genis announced decisively, his face flaming, his eyes sparkling. "Th-that's a great idea, Sis. Let's go after her!"

Sara smirked. "Aw, you make a cute little knight in shining armor, Genis."

"Sh-shut up! Let's go!"

They filed outside once more; the girl had made it halfway towards the castle's front steps when Genis finally found his voice again: "Hang on a sec! Um, Presea!"

She stopped instantly. Then slowly, like the patient hands of a clock, turned around to face them.

In the light of day, it became obvious that something was off about her gaze. Her eyes seemed distant, and forever focused on anything but the horizon. A permanent flatness tainted her small, soft features. She let go of the wood's leather strap and stood before them, silent and still.

A few awkward seconds ticked by before Raine cleared her throat. "Could we have a moment of your time?"

"I'm Lloyd," the teen announced instantly, with an amiable smile. He pointed dutifully around to the members of their group. "This is Colette, and Raine, and Sara, and Zelos, and Sheena, and-"

" _I'm Genis!_ " The young mage had fairly shouted this. It was like he couldn't properly control the volume of his voice.

One of Lloyd's eyebrows lifted. "Hey, Genis, uh. Why are you all flushed?"

But Genis continued on with unflinching purpose: "C-can we help you finish your job? We want you to travel with us to Sybak!"

Presea blinked once. And that seemed to be the entirety of her addition to the conversation, because she gripped the strap in her right hand and turned around again.

Genis stumbled forward. "W-wait!"

"I'm sorry," Raine interjected, with her trademark tactful smoothness. "I know this is a bit strange, but please hear us out. You're wearing an Exsphere, aren't you?"

Though the girl still faced away from all of them, they heard a short, flat "...Yes."

"But it doesn't have a Key Crest," Lloyd continued, stepping around to face her. "That can make you sick." He gestured to Colette. "We also have a friend who is sick from her Cruxis Crystal, and we're going to Sybak to help her. We want to help you too."

Presea robotically shook her head. "I must complete my work." And she started walking again, dragging the log behind her.

Zelos stroked his chin thoughtfully with his thumb and forefinger. "Damn, my little rosebud's strong as an ox."

" _Rosebud?"_ Sara stared at him incredulously. "Dude. She's, like, _thirteen_."

Another flippant swish of that crimson hair. "All's fair in love and war, my lovely."

"Oh, so you're a prophet, too?" Sara rolled her eyes. " _Where does the fun stop?"_

"Lloyd!" Genis tugged on his friend's arm. "Let's help her carry it! Then we can leave faster!"

"Okay!" And both boys darted forward, on either side of Presea, grabbing hold of the log's strap. Presumably out of a mixture of interest and discomfiture, Presea herself halted once more and stepped out of the way, leaving Genis and Lloyd alone to continue onward.

Which neither one of them did, whatsoever.

Lloyd kept pulling forward. He dug his heels into the ground. Wrapped the strap around his wrists. Lurched backwards, grimacing, starting to break a sweat- "Oh my g- w-wait a minute! This thing is _heavy_!"

"It won't budge at all!" Genis moaned, in a similar predicament.

And Presea didn't so much as glance at either one of them as she again took hold of the wood and not only dragged it forward, but smoothly, and with zero struggle, up the castle's front steps.

Lloyd sighed and hung his head. "...I've lost all confidence as a man."

"Me, too," Genis mumbled.

"What a _badass,"_ Sara exclaimed jovially. Her face was alight with a sort of terrifying inspiration. "She needs to come with us. I _have_ to know her training routine-"

"She shouldn't be much longer," Sheena interjected factually. "She only delivers the sacred wood. The King's aides and the priests prepare it for the prayer ritual."

Lo and behold, as soon as Sheena finished speaking, Presea reappeared through the castle's main gates, sans-lumber. Genis instantly felt all stupid and hot again. He approached her slowly. "Are you ready to come with us, Presea? Is that okay?"

Though she didn't meet his eyes, her pink head bobbed in just a hint of a nod. "Understood."

But that was enough for his face to break out in a beaming grin, and for his cheeks to become splashed with cherry-red. "A-alright! Then let's go!"

* * *

Their destination actually waited across the sea, but thankfully its home continent and the one they currently walked on were connected. Guided by both Zelos and Sheena, the group made for the Grand Tethe'alla Bridge; it wasn't too far from Meltokio - only a few hours - and the sun was shining pleasantly, which made for a relatively simple trip. There were monsters here and there, but with their newly-increased numbers, most provided little resistance. Getting used to fighting with two more people, however, meant some necessary adjustments.

Falling into a group with five rather gorgeous women made Zelos a happy Chosen. It was clear that he tended to rub a few of them the wrong way (heh) - namely Sheena, who made it a point to stay as far away from him as possible at all times. Which clearly only meant she wanted him, of course. She'd come around eventually.

They _all_ did.

Raine, the Professor, felt like a block of ice - cold, sharp and hard. His jabs at her seemed to make her flustered at times, like any sort of male attention simply short-circuited her brilliant brain. It made him grin every time. She was going to be a lot of fun. Even if he ended up with a few scratches.

And the angel, well… obviously, she didn't talk much. Neither did Presea - the younger pink-haired girl seemed very much like Colette in a lot of ways. Sort of hollow, empty. But without the angel wings. And in place of light-magic powers and a pair of chakrams: a giant, ogre-sized axe that excelled in cleaving enemies in two. It probably outweighed her by at least twice her own body weight, but she wielded it like it were a quill pen.

Sara felt different than the others. She openly despised Zelos at times, sure, but she always seemed to be almost-smiling. Like she secretly found his shenanigans entertaining. She was a bit older than everyone, but only by a handful of (very important) years. And her wit was as quick and deadly as his - and just as crude. In the few hours since they'd met, she'd flipped him the bird four times, insinuated _adult_ things another four, and threatened his life twice. But he made her laugh each time too - which, in his book, was solely a victory.

Curiously, he threw her a glance over one shoulder and internally cackled when he caught her staring at him. Her look was one of study, of thoughtful interest - not exactly romantic or wanton, but attention from a woman in any form was not something Zelos would ever shun whatsoever.

She was just finishing polishing those deadly claws of hers when she asked: "So you're the Chosen here, huh?"

Zelos bowed to her with practiced flair. "That's me. Zelos Wilder, the great and illustrious Chosen of Mana."

Sara's lips pursed. "In Sylvarant, Colette was one of my closest friends." Then frowned. "Even though you're _obviously_ nothing like her… I have to wonder, was your life a lot like hers?"

Oh, so she'd actually been thinking of him, eh? Yeah, this was the best day ever. Even though this subject matter was a little sobering, and not something he exactly _enjoyed_ discussing - he went on anyway, just to slake her curiosity. And leave her wanting more, of course.

"Well. From the time I was born, I've had a long list of things expected of me. If I even came close to failing any of those goals - I was promptly reminded, and not always in the most pleasant of ways, why I needed to remain on track." He paused and shot a disgruntled glare back at Meltokio. "...Everything the Church wanted came first."

Really, that was a massive understatement; he hoped that his voice hadn't sounded as bitter as he'd thought. Zelos wondered, for just a moment, if Sara had looked genuinely concerned. Her steps beside him slowed a little.

"That sucks," she said.

He shrugged. Nodded with effortless nonchalance. "Yeah, sure. It kind of did sometimes." Okay, getting too serious for comfort. Back to the confident grin. "But I'm world-famous, live in a huge mansion, and can get any girl I want anytime. What more could I ask for?"

Sara smirked again and scoffed a laugh. "Well. I guess that'd depend on what you want from life. I wonder what the famous Chosen could possibly be without… What do you want, Z?"

He laughed, too, but his was real. He leaned a little closer to her, fixating his stare on her freckled face with his best, most successful casanova smile. "Oho, I get my own nickname? I'm flattered, my Fiery Temptress."

But she just stared back at him flatly. He'd seen a lot of disinterested looks in his time, but hers took the cake. It made him wonder why - was there some other man in her life? She wasn't wearing a ring… Maybe she was gay? _Brilliant_. That would totally explain the whole tomboyish thing-

"It's fine," Sara was saying, with a pretty infuriating, skeptical tilt of her chin. "You don't have to answer me."

Such a _tease_. "No, anything for you." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "What do I want from life, hmm? Really… to have fun. To have a good time and die happy. That's all. I'm a simple man of simple pleasures."

She punched his shoulder. And though it was hard enough to actually hurt quite a bit, and would probably leave a bruise, he let this show with only a small twitch of one eye.

"Solid plan," Sara announced. "I think we'll get along."

He thought about punching her back, but quickly reconsidered. And instead just smiled, and linked his hands casually behind his head. "That's the best news I've heard all day!"

* * *

The Grand Tethe'alla bridge was, well… _grand._ Made of advanced, wonderful technology that Sylvarant couldn't ever touch, and gleaming parapets and mechanical spires that jutted towards the sky.

Lloyd slowed to a halt at is entrance, his mouth hanging open in wonderment. "Whoa… that's a _huge_ bridge."

"How does it not…" Genis paused for a hard swallow. "...just _fall down?_ "

"Listen and be amazed, bumpkins," Zelos began, splaying one hand proudly against his chest. He gestured behind him like an auctioneer displaying merchandise. "This is the greatest drawbridge in the world. It connects the continents of Altamira and Fooji. Its control system incorporates over 3,000 Exspheres."

"Three thousand…" Raine echoed, her indigo eyes wide.

Genis looked sick. So did Sara and Lloyd, who for a moment had to look away, down at his own feet, and anywhere other than the death-bridge they had to cross. "Three thousand human lives."

It took a few seconds of heavy silence for Zelos to realize anything was amiss. Eventually, he gave them all an addled glare. "What? What's wrong? What's with those faces?"

Raine sighed. "I suppose we'd better tell you."

"Yeah," Sheena agreed. "Not even I knew the truth until I learned it in Sylvarant." She inhaled, and met Zelos' gaze with an obstinate frown. "We've been in the dark for a long time."

Several minutes and laden words later, the truth now hung between them like fog in the air. Though all the indication Zelos gave of thoughtfulness was a downward turn of the corners of his mouth. "That's a pretty sobering story. Is that really true?"

Lloyd bristled. "Do you think we'd _make up_ something like that?"

And Presea, who up until now had remained rather motionless, began to open her mouth to speak. But ended up saying nothing, and instead just staring forward, over the sea.

Zelos cleared his throat and waved a diffident hand. "Oh, well, even so. It's not like the dead are going to come back to life at this point." Another beaming grin. "It's always best to look on the bright side of things!"

Raine slowly sidled up to her brother. "...I can't tell if he's a positive thinker, or just doesn't care about anything."

"I think he's just an ass," Genis muttered.

"It seems like _everything_ has Exspheres here," Lloyd grumbled bitterly.

Zelos shook his head. "Not true. Like I said, only those who have to do with the King get Exspheres. They're distributed by a group known as the Renegades."

"Wait," Lloyd ground out. "So the Renegades and the King are in cahoots?"

"You didn't know?" Zelos hid a chuckle behind one palm. "Oh, how cute. My adorable little bumpkins…"

Sara growled a sigh and glanced indignantly at her right wrist. "Someone has some _explaining_ to do…"

"That doesn't explain Presea, though," Genis cut in. "What about her?"

"Beats me," Zelos scoffed. "Well, little one?"

Nothing. Nothing whatsoever. The sea breeze ruffled the girl's abundance of pink hair, but she said nothing.

"She's so talkative," Zelos quipped.

* * *

By the time they'd crossed the bridge, the sun had begun to set. The bridge itself took longer to venture over than the plains between it and Meltokio, where they'd started from. Another House of Guidance sat a short distance away; since making it all the way to Sybak before nightfall was impossible, they decided to rest for the night.

Lloyd now sat alone at one of the picnic tables on the House's front lawn. Earlier, he'd been talking with Genis - about pretty much everything really. Making it to Tethe'alla, what was going to happen to Colette, if they were doing the right thing… while no answers were really discovered, just talking about his fears and apprehensions with his best friend seemed to make everything a little bit more okay.

Genis was now in his room sleeping (he was _really_ good at that - Lloyd envied him for it). But Lloyd still wasn't tired. He wasn't sure where the others had gone; Colette and Presea were still inside, as was Sheena, and Zelos had "gone out for a walk" - whatever _that_ meant. Lloyd heard the front door open just behind him, and turned around a bit to see Sara, who had just begun to stride outside into the night. She had some sort of small wooden container to her lips, and her head was tilted back like she were drinking from it.

She took a few steps forward before she spotted him out of the corner of her eye. He smiled a little and waved to her. She paused abruptly, and looked like she swallowed hard due to the subtle grimace on her face. But then she dragged the back of her hand across her mouth, returned the container to her belt, and smiled back.

"Hey, kid."

"Hey, Sara. ...What are you drinking?"

She waved a dismissive hand at him. "Oh, heh. You, uh… you don't want any of that. It's nothing." She took a seat beside him at the table, and leaned forward so that her elbows were resting on its surface, and her hands were casually clasped together. "Anyway, what's up? What do you think of Tethe'alla so far?"

Lloyd exhaled an awed breath. "It's… so different. Really amazing too! All the huge buildings, and the technology… I can see why we've come here, why these people might be able to help Colette." And his voice started to slow, to drop in tone, until it stopped entirely.

Sara's fingertips drummed along the tabletop. "I sense a 'but.'"

He nodded. "But… One thing really bothers me."

"What?"

"How everyone treats Exspheres." He gripped the edge of his seat tighter, hoping it would stave off the wave of nausea that swam through his stomach. "Like that huge bridge… how can anyone justify using all those lives just for a machine?"

She was silent for a little while, staring out towards the distant coast. "It seems like most people here don't even know what Exspheres are. Not even their Chosen knew."

"They _should_ know," Lloyd spat. His left hand started to curl into a fist. "How can anyone just walk around acting like everything's fine when it's so far from it?"

"...You didn't know for a long time, Lloyd," she said softly.

His head snapped up. He stared over at her, eyes wide, as that fist started to loosen.

That was literally the last thing he'd expected her to say. Until now, she had done nothing but agree with him and encourage his gut instincts. He opened his mouth to retort, but all that came out were discombobulated word-fragments and halfhearted protests.

"I'm not saying you're wrong," she continued gently. "In fact I agree with you. Like, one million percent. But sometimes ignorance is innocent. Not meant to harm. You know?"

Lloyd sighed and dragged one hand through his hair. The burning anger in his chest eased, fading into mere coals before extinguishing entirely. "...Yeah. Yeah, you're right. It just makes me more motivated to find a way to fix all of this." He squared his slumped shoulders. "I can't stand the idea of anyone else ending up like my mom."

Sara's expression darkened. "...Yeah."

"I just…" He flattened the fingers of his left hand out on the table, and watched the way the moonlight gilded the Exsphere's glassy surface and the glinting gold of his Key Crest. "I wonder a lot if she's still in here somewhere. If she thinks I'm doing the right thing."

He was a bit distracted by his own thoughts, so he didn't really notice the way Sara's breath caught. Or the peculiar sheen that her eyes took on as she turned them away from him.

"I… don't know anything about her," Lloyd went on, a little surprised at his own courage. His voice seemed to be coming forth unstoppably, like his tongue had a mind of its own. "I know she was strong enough to stand up against the Desians, but I… I just hate not knowing."

He felt tears sting his eyes. He blinked them away quickly, allowing the hollow sadness in his chest to fill with soothing rage. "I feel like it's such a cop out. Just like with Exspheres. I want to know the truth."

"...Dammit," he heard Sara mumble.

He risked a glance at her. She looked tense, haunted. Her head was pointedly turned away from him.

"S-sorry," he stammered. "I was just kind of thinking out loud. I tend to do that a lot."

Suddenly, she got her feet. She took in a breath. And she walked around the side of the table, only to take a seat directly across from him, instead of beside him.

"...Sara?" She still hadn't let out her breath. It was making him a little uneasy. He grimaced and started to lean back; was she angry with him? About to point out another flaw in his logic?-

"Lloyd," she said finally, and it allowed him to remember to breathe, too. "This is going to sound completely nuts, but I want you to listen to me. Okay?"

His stomach tightened, equal parts interested and mortified. "...Okay. What is it?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Hissed a curse. Then managed: "Do you remember that night in Luin, when you all came back from the Asgard Human Ranch... And I told you how my sister had been kept at the ranch too?"

The worst day of his life. He nodded grimly. "Yeah. You said Kvar killed her for an Exsphere. Just like my mom."

"Okay," she said on a rush. She cleared her throat. She looked incredibly nervous, which was making him feel much the same. "And… Okay. Phew. Lloyd. Your mother's name was Anna."

"Right," he muttered, glancing once again at his Exsphere. It had started to glow softly, like it always did when he became emotional. "I… I knew that."

Sara's eyes finally met his. "Anna was my sister's name, too."

A few seconds went by. A breeze ruffled her hair as she stared at him. She was clearly waiting for his reaction.

He blinked. Then smiled, completely relieved. "...Oh wow, really? That's a crazy coincidence! I mean I know Anna is probably kind of a common name, but-"

Sara held one hand to her face. "Oh, kid. That's… that's not what I meant."

His smile faded instantly. "Wh-what?"

"Lloyd. Your _mother_ Anna was my _sister_ Anna. They were the same person."

He blinked again. He heard himself breathing. His jaw dropped a little, as did his swirling stomach, and he forced out the only word he could think of:

"Huh?"

"You're my blood," Sara went on, and there was absolutely no hiding the tears in her strained voice, now. Or her eyes, as they somehow stayed locked onto his. "You're my sister's son. You're my nephew, Lloyd."

"B-but… what?" The world spun. He got to his feet, though he didn't know why. "What? How-"

She reached for one of her pockets. And she flattened a small photo out on the surface of the table as she slid it over to him. "Here, look at this."

Some part of him didn't want to. Her fingers were still on top of the picture; he could only make out a few features, like a shoulder and neck, and part of a jaw. And long brown hair. Hair that looked just like his-

"That night we spent at your father's-" She paused, and closed her eyes for just slightly too long. "At _Dirk's_ house, I… I asked Dirk if this was what your mom looked like." Deliberately, Sara drew her hand back. "And he said yes. So."

Lloyd sat down again. Or, rather, collapsed onto the wooden seat.

He stared hard at the photo. He recognized small Sara instantly; knobby shoulders, a mischievous, beaming grin, pumpkin-orange hair. With the way the moon was hitting the glossy photo, he still couldn't see the other face. The unfamiliar face. It was shrouded in light, like a halo.

Slowly, inch by inch, he began to reach out his left hand. A few fingertips pressed against the photo's edge, just beneath little Sara's chin. His heart thundered in his ears, racing, frantic. His throat and mouth dried, becoming vapid, sandy.

And he dragged the picture towards him. "This is…"

"Yeah, Lloyd," Sara said. Her voice was barely there. "Th-that's Anna Irving. That's your mom."

He felt the breath leave his lungs. He wasn't sure how his heart still continued beating. He managed to look down. And he was positive his mouth was hanging open, though he could do nothing about it.

He saw slender shoulders. Long chestnut hair. A small, graceful, perfect smile- "I… I've never seen…"

Sara's hand flew to her mouth, where it clamped tightly. "...Oh, shit. Lloyd."

Lloyd's fingertips traced along the edge of a glossy, slender jaw. And through imaginary, soft locks of hair.

"Mom…"

"Keep it," Sara announced decisively. She got to her feet again. Lloyd couldn't look at her yet. He didn't even try.

He barely heard Sara when she said: "It's yours now, okay?"

His mother. Anna. This was her, this… this woman he'd seen in his dreams, that had softly stroked his hair, that had said his name through all the shadows-

She looked strong. She looked kind, and patient. She was _gorgeous._ A thousand questions perched themselves on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to ask what had happened to her. Why things had turned out this way. Why she couldn't be here now, with him, with-

Abruptly, the sound of crunching grass reached his ears. Lloyd managed to lift his head, though his mouth still hung open, fighting for breath.

He remembered in a rush that there had been _two_ people in this photo. Sisters. Both his blood, both his _family._

Lloyd's throat quivered uselessly as he stared at Sara. She'd started to walk, alone, towards the front door. He could tell she was a mess. But she was ignoring him pointedly, and he seemed to sense that she thought she _should_ leave. Like that's what he wanted. Like that's what was best for him.

Which wasn't right _at all_.

Without even realizing it, he palmed the photo and pressed it against his chest. His voice abruptly started working again, and burst forth steadfastly: "W-wait! Sara, where are you… where are you going?"

She paused. She turned her back to him. He saw the way she idly rubbed at the back of her neck, and the awkward shuffle of her feet, and _oh damn_ it reminded him so much of himself- "I just… I guess I j-just thought you could use a minute alone to-"

Lloyd Irving shot to his feet. He practically scrambled out of his seat. There were only four or five steps between the two of them; he crossed the distance in two bounding, purposeful steps.

He threw his arms around Sara's waist. His forehead dug into the back of her shoulder, and he couldn't remember a time he'd embraced someone tighter, with as much breathtaking certainty.

He realized idly that he'd probably gotten that trait from her. And it made him smile so wide against her shirt, though she couldn't see any of it.

"Sh-shit," she managed, and her hands instantly clamped themselves on top of his arms, like she never wanted him to let go. "Oh, kid, I'm so _sorry-_ "

"Sorry?" he echoed with genuine wonderment. "For what?"

She started to turn around, so he let go of her. Because that was the right thing to do…? Sure. She was using the back of her fingers like a tissue to mop up her literally unstoppable tears.

"I thought… I thought you'd died with her, Lloyd, I… I didn't know you survived… I should've been there for you-"

"It's okay," Lloyd said simply.

Air choked to a halt in her throat. "...But-"

"Dirk found me, and he took good care of me." When Sara managed to look at him a little, it was just _wonderful._ She was still crying. She cried a lot, just like him. He smiled wider. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

She smiled too. "Y-yeah. Yeah, you are."

He realized idly that he'd been holding her hands. She made it a point to shove the picture back into his palm, and to encourage his fingers to curl around it. So he did. And he placed the photo carefully, with the utmost tenderness, into his pocket.

"I've…" Lloyd stared hard at a random spot on her arm. "I've never had… family before."

He saw her shrug once. "Me neither. Not for so long. Not since I lost everything" She paused. It looked like she wanted to hug him again, but thought otherwise at the last second. "Not since… her."

"Then… then let's be family together now. Okay?"

"...Okay."

The relieved breath she exhaled made happiness shoot straight up his spine. He smiled again. He kind of flopped forward ungracefully, so that his forehead ended up against one of her collarbones, and his arms hung limp at his sides.

"My aunt Sara. ...That sounds weird."

Her fingers went to his hair and stayed there. "You call me whatever you want, deal?"

"How about just 'Sara'? That's what it's been all along, so…"

"That sounds perfect."

* * *

(Lyrics are from "What I Wouldn't Give" by Holly Brook. Listened to it on repeat while writing the last scene... it was perfect :D)


	37. Iterum (Again)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

 _Iterum_

* * *

Noishe had met a lot of dragons in his lifetime. Dragons, as a species, were nearly as old as him; one of the first intelligent creatures to walk the earth, back when Noishe was merely swimming in lakes and oceans.

 _Met_ was really the operative word here; Noishe rarely actually became _friends_ with dragons. As a whole, even after all this time, dragons tended to be very aloof creatures. Very private. And Noishe was none of that. Since his last change - and even after what had happened to The Woman - he loved everyone, and found friendship among all species just as important to him as loyalty.

This dragon was _different_ than other dragons, though. Somehow smarter, somehow wiser…

Noishe had followed The Boy's scent here, to this unbearably hot desert. Noishe didn't like this place much for that exact reason - it was so _warm,_ and it made all of his soft, thick fur feel terribly excessive.

That giant purple dragon seemed not to notice the heat at all, however. He'd spotted her first from around a small collection of boulders. She was scraping incessantly at some sandstone with her front claws. Every few seconds she would take in a long breath through her slender royal-purple snout, then exhale it in a perturbed rush, stirring up small clouds of dust and sand.

She was probably trying to follow someone's scent, too. Noishe whined a little and puffed out his furry chest. He'd been here for far longer than this dragon, just waiting for The Second Man to come out and let him in. And that meant Noishe's nose was stronger than the dragon's, because it had gotten him here first. He started to pant proudly.

The dragon sat back on her haunches as she first turned to look at Noishe. Her neck was long and sinuous, and lined along its back edge with sharp spines. Her head, proud and angled, was garnished just behind each eye with a trio of gleaming silver horns.

Noishe abruptly stopped panting. The dragon rumbled a soft growl-greeting at the base of her long throat, which was coated in shiny gold scales. Noishe's ears drooped just a little as he softly strode forward.

He met the dragon nose-first. Her head was easily at least one-third the size of his whole body, but he stood his ground. His ears perked up again, curiously.

The dragon sniffed him. She had buttery-amber eyes that slitted thin in the unrelenting sun and blinked slowly. Her wings fluttered, and her tail carved slow, swooping lines in the hot sand.

Noishe barked once; the dragon spewed an excited squeal into the dry air, and that was that.

 _Friends_!

It was pretty good timing, Noishe thought, because just a moment later, the giant blue-black door to this desert fortress began to open. Noishe trotted forward easily; his new dragon friend looked a bit more hesitant, because she rose to all fours and started to flare her wings. He barked once back at her casually, as if to say, 'it's okay.'

"It's okay," The Second Man echoed instantly. Noishe sat beside him dutifully, just like he had for many years, long ago. Noishe's tail swayed back and forth when a hand met his head, between his ears, and stroked easily down his neck and back.

"You must be Iona," The Second Man said, smiling a little. He idly adjusted the black cape around his shoulders as he strode into the sunlight, which made his long blue hair positively vivid, and the shadows along his face rather handsome. He held out one hand in a greeting, palm-up, towards the sky. "Come. You're among friends."

Iona shifted from one clawed paw to the other. But she eventually lumbered forward. And she ignored Yuan's outstretched hand entirely as she headed inside, her head held high, defiant.

He chuckled. "You take after your handler, I see. Let's get you both back to where you belong."

Noishe whined an agreement. He belonged beside The Boy; Iona probably belonged beside her human, too. Noishe's steps were three to Iona's one, but with a little practice, he kept up with his new friend just fine.

* * *

Sheena waved one hand in front of Colette's empty face. Nothing happened, save for a few ruffled tendrils of the girl's flaxen hair. Sheena did it again. Then she closed her eyes and pressed her palms together beneath her chin, and started to chant, in a voice she mostly reserved for Mizuho's prayer rituals - but was now meant for a random spot beneath a tree just outside of Sybak:

"You will get betterrrrr," she murmured, picturing how Colette used to be, all clumsy legs and bright, shiny smiles. "You will get betterrrrrrrrrrr..."

Nothing. Not even a blink, or any hint of a smile.

Sheena sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat-

"What are you doing?"

"Ah- _wha-"_ Sheena whipped around, equal parts embarrassed and ready to throw a _killer_ punch.

Instinctively - he _should've_ learned by now, truly - Zelos slid out of the way. Sheena didn't actually attempt a punch, but her cocked fist was all the warning he needed. He raised his hands innocently just as she lowered hers.

"N-nothing," she stammered. And Zelos was giving her those thinned, stupid, _you're-full-of-shit_ baby-blue eyes that she wanted to pluck from his _stupid_ face- "I was j-just wishing for Colette to return to normal."

Tethe'alla's Chosen had been grinning triumphantly; Sheena noticed that his expression sobered, for just a moment, as he asked, "How long has she been like that?"

"A few days." That look on his face was making her unspeakably nervous - but it was gone quickly. She stiffened when he flung one arm around her shoulders. His hand ended up half on her arm and half on her chest, which she was _positive_ was intentional; his thumb traced lazily from the outline of her shoulder to just beneath her collarbone. And he gestured forward grandly, to the city looming a few miles ahead.

"All the more reason for us to continue post haste, hunny. Wouldn't you agree?" He took hold of Colette's wrist with his free hand and began guiding her along. "I can't wait to see miss Cool Cutie smile again. I'm sure she's _so_ much prettier when she smiles."

Sheena flung his arm off like it were a snake or a swarm of insects. "Y-you're not doing anything _funny_ to her, are you?"

Zelos scoffed. He looked genuinely offended. It made Sheena flood with pride, for just a moment. "What?! Of course not!"

She eyed him with deadly purpose. "It wouldn't surprise me at all if you did something like that."

Zelos glanced repeatedly from Colette to Sheena and back again. One edge of his mouth pricked up just barely in a _stupid_ (that was Sheena's choice adjective for the Chosen) smirk. "What do you mean by that?"

Sheena abruptly remembered a foggy bathroom, and a frosted glass window, and a brief flash of crimson hair- "You tried peeking at me in the shower before. Don't lie."

The Chosen's smirk widened into a confident grin. He slid closer. He smelled _stupidly_ good, actually, like fresh air and cinnamon. He nudged his shoulder against hers; for a few nauseating moments she felt paralyzed, as he leaned in and muttered velvet-soft words against her ear:

"That was just natural curiosity towards the unknown, my dear."

And damn it all, he _had_ to have felt the volcanic explosion of her face before she finally managed to shove him away. Immediately, now that both her hands were free, she took hold of Colette.

"Come on. I'll get you away from this creep."

Colette agreed, with a fervent, decided "..."

"I saw you blush," Zelos called out, rubbing the sore hip he'd ended up landing on. He kept smiling. "So did the sun!"

* * *

To Raine, Sybak just felt _right._

Libraries. Schools. Learning centers of all kind; most citizens milled about in college uniforms, clutching books, adjusting worn, smudged glasses on the bridges of small noses. Talking softly to one another about _research_ and _study_ and everything that mattered.

Her eyes lit up. She started to smile. "I love this city."

"I hate this city," Presea countered morbidly. And it was her words that drew everyone's attention, not Raine's. After all, the young pink-haired girl didn't speak much; when she did, it seemed to be something to be considered.

Genis was watching her with a look of terribly dramatic concern on his face. He had one hand raised to his chin, and stopped just short of his childhood habit of biting his nails in times of uncertainty. "Are you okay, Presea?"

"Hurry," the girl forced out. Her voice was shaking strangely. She kept focusing on the wall to her right, rather than any of them. "Please, let's leave soon. I want to go home, to Ozette."

"Ozette?" Zelos echoed on a barking laugh. "You mean that village from the boondocks? -I mean, out in the forest?"

Sara immediately unsheathed her claws. "What's wrong with being from the _boondocks_?"

"Hey hey, don't get mad, my Fiery Temptress." Zelos pricked one eyebrow. And one corner of his mouth. "Especially after all the trouble I went through to contact the Imperial Research Academy for you."

Lloyd flicked a quick glance at Sara, who was wearing the exact same impressed smirk that he now mirrored. "Not bad, Zelos."

"I _know_ , right?" the Chosen continued instantly. "Using the Research Academy requires permission from the King. Buuuuuuut, when the great Zelos speaks, His Majesty listens."

"Ozette is not far from here," Sheena interjected. "We can drop Presea off when we're finished. Is that alright with you, Presea?"

Presea still wouldn't look at any of them. Her small hands had bunched into shaking fists. But she nodded, and barely said: "Yes."

"Let's hurry, Lloyd," Genis was saying, in between biting his lip.

Lloyd nodded. They strode into the city, avoiding gaggles of murmuring students, passing brick homes and billowing smokestacks, picking up supplies on their way. Zelos led them proudly to the Academy's front entrance, and through a pair of massive, regal wooden doors.

"Yo!" He casually approached the female receptionist, who stared up at him in a mixture of shock and interest. "There should be word from Meltokio."

"Chosen One." The woman stood; she wore a long white coat, a scholarly beige tie and thick black-rimmed glasses. Her blonde hair was pulled back tight against her scalp in a small bun. "We've been waiting for you. Please come this way."

They were led down a carpeted hallway just to the right, past a series of closed doors, bulletin boards with various educational flyers, and potted plants that Lloyd wondered how they were still alive if they never saw the sun.

"My name is Rilena," the woman began, stepping around a grand wooden desk, on which had been splayed a series of tomes and packets of paper. "I headline the Academy's research on Exspheres and Cruxis Crystals." She smiled a little - it looked out of place on her sharp, angled face. "It's a fascinating subject. I am thrilled to be able to explain it to all of you."

Raine frowned. "I'm not sure if I'd call it _fascinating,_ but at any rate, please continue. We have come a long way for this information."

Rilena nodded, and gestured to a few papers with depictions of crystals and crests. "Upon receiving the report of Colette's symptoms, we focused our attention on research data regarding the Chosen of Tethe'alla's Cruxis Crystal."

Zelos seemed pleased with this. "Well, now. So my crystal _was_ useful. When Colette returns to normal, I'll need to make sure she thanks me _generously-_ "

"Wait," Lloyd cut in, partly from curiosity but also out of desperation to change the subject. "So you don't wear your Cruxis Crystal, Zelos?"

"Nope. Only the Chosen from the declining world actually has one equipped." Zelos splayed one hand dramatically against his chest. "If I were to equip mine, odds are I'd end up just like our favorite angel here. And the world couldn't possibly go without me."

"Debatable," Genis muttered.

Rilena cleared her throat and rapped her knuckles on the desk. Clearly, she either was currently or had been a teacher; Raine quite admired her tenacity. "Pay attention, please. It seems that Cruxis Crystals are merely evolved forms of Exspheres. And both Exspheres and Cruxis Crystals are lifeless beings."

Lloyd's eyes narrowed. "Lifeless-what? What did you say?"

"They are alive - just not in the same way we are," Rilena elaborated. "Both of these crystals are like parasites fusing with other life forms."

For just a moment, the corner that Sara stood in seemed a bit darker, like it gained a few more shadows.

"...Don't call them that," she growled.

Rilena shot her a wide-eyed glance. The darkness vanished as quickly as it had come. Maybe just her imagination?... What a weird group of people…

"When this happens," Rilena continued dutifully, "the mana within the body loses balance and goes out of control without a Key Crest. Since Colette's crystal is not protected by a proper Key Crest, she is suffering from a paras- a _sickness_ caused by the crystal."

"So that's why people without Key Crests turn into monsters," Lloyd muttered.

Genis gasped. "Th-then what's going to happen to Presea?" The subject of his speech had not spoken once since they entered the city, and she didn't now. "Presea doesn't have a Key Crest, either!"

Rilena hummed in thought. "It's likely that if someone was to fashion proper crests for them both, they would return to normal. Although there's no telling how long that would take."

"Then we have to find a pair of Key Crests," Lloyd announced with his trademark determined smile.

"Unlikely," Rilena said immediately. Lloyd's smile tumbled from his face, but she continued before he could speak: "Key Crests and Exspheres are tightly regulated by both the Church and the royal court. You'd be better off making one yourself from inhibitor ore."

Sheena suddenly snapped her fingers. "Altessa."

"Who?" Lloyd blurted.

"He's a dwarf in Gaoracchia Forest. He can help us make the crests."  
"And Gaoracchia is right next to Ozette," Zelos chimed in cheerfully, with a glance at Presea. "Two birds with one stone!"

"Th-then let's go!" Genis practically shouted, turning towards the door.

Sara stepped out from her corner. "Can I ask one last question?"

Rilena eyed her warily. But she nodded as she idly smoothed one hand along the side of her hair.

"Have you heard of Exspheres made from dragons?"

"Dragons?" Rilena shuffled through some of her papers. "Hmm. There aren't many dragons left in Tethe'alla. But I think I read something recently, about…" She trailed off, intent on her hunt.

Sara planted her knuckles on the desk's surface to display both of her Exspheres. "Both of these were made from dragons. My dragons. The Desians in Sylvarant were doing experiments on them to try and make a new kind of Exsphere."

Zelos gave her an addled look. "Well, now. I didn't know that."

"Ah, here," Rilena said triumphantly, procuring a particular folder. "My colleague recently explained this information to me. It seems that similar experiments on dragons were conducted here at the Academy, in an attempt to research mana flow and the ability to control fire."

Sara's fists curled tighter. Her voice dropped low. "...What did you say?"

"Dragons have an innate ability to control flames and heat, which was thought to potentially be useful to humans in the production of magitechnology and machinery. Exsphere experiments were conducted on several dragons in an attempt to harness this ability-"

"Rilena," Raine interrupted shakily, her chest growing heavy, the air thickening- "Please, hold that thought for a moment."

Zelos had kind of seen the shadows before, just for a second; as usual, he honestly hadn't been paying much attention. But this time there was no mistaking them.

All light abruptly seemed incapable of penetrating the area beneath Sara's feet and the empty space along her back and shoulders, which were hunched at an odd angle. He glanced around at the others. Genis and Raine had started to step back; while Sheena remained in place, the expression she now wore was tense, queasy. Something heavy and uncomfortable bloomed in his gut; at the same time, he felt a swift, overpowering urge to move closer. To slide his fingers into the darkness-

"It's okay, Sara," Lloyd was saying gently. He was the only one who didn't seem fazed at all. He walked straight up to Sara, and eased one hand onto her tense shoulder. "Come on. We have to help Colette and Presea, right?"

As soon as his hand touched her, the shadows vanished. The air cleared. Sara closed her eyes for a moment and took in a long breath, but then she nodded.

Rilena slowly set the packet of paper down. "I-if it helps at all, the experiments were never successful. They were halted after a few weeks. None of the Exspheres produced could be equipped without causing the host severe burns. Even with proper Key Crests."

Sara passed her thumb over Ko'tenda's gem and frowned. "Then I wonder why…"

Slowly, they all shuffled out of the room. Raine gave Rilena one last thank-you, though the woman seemed nothing but thrilled at their departure.

When the office's door clicked closed, a side door in the room opened slowly. Rilena turned to it expectantly, and watched as a pair of armored knights, carrying giant axes, strode forward. Behind them, and at roughly half their size, was the Pope himself, in layers of holy white and gold robes - though it did little in the way of making him appear respectable. His bulbous nose and twitching mustache kind of ruined it.

"Was that dark magic?" Rilena asked quietly. "There were shadows everywhere."

"Perhaps. It is the most likely explanation," he confirmed, scowling at the front door. "Which is not only illegal, but would mean there could be half-elves in the group. Regardless, it means we must keep an even closer eye on them." He turned to his knights. "Follow them."

"Yes, sir."

The Pope rustled around in the pockets of his robes for a few moments before procuring a hand-sized leather coinpurse. He plopped it down on the desk beside him.

"Martel's blessing be upon you."

Rilena took it. "Thank you, your Eminence."

* * *

"Hi," was the first thing Sara said to him.

She couldn't think of much else. And that was an okay greeting, right? Nice and succinct. _Polite_. She coupled it with what she hoped was a decent-looking smile, and she stepped back a little, towards the balcony wall, to give him room to land.

Seeing him fly was still very weird. But also kind of cool, too. She liked the way his wings looked - they were elegant, much like the rest of him. Crystalline, ice-blue. They rained bits of light when they swayed, drops that plunked soundlessly to the floor and faded instantly upon impact.

Kratos nodded to her in his silent version of a greeting. She was positive he'd already scouted the area thoroughly, and that he would only approach her under complete solitude - but he still scanned his surroundings with a quick sweep of narrowed garnet eyes. His wings flickered and vanished; they had been the only other light beside the moon and stars, and clouds marred the sky, making it almost unnervingly dark. She could only make out the edges of his broad frame in front of her.

That was necessary, though. Considering he was basically playing the role of spy and risking both their lives by being here. Sara had been standing in front of him; that thought, still paralyzingly-new, made her all-but collapse into the wicker chair just behind her. She scrubbed at her face with both hands before raking one of them back through her hair.

"It's been two days _already?"_

Kratos cleared his throat. "...Should I leave?"

"No," she blurted, her back whipping straight. "Ah, no. Please stay. I'm just…" She sighed, and sunk into the chair again.

First: the world regeneration, literally her whole purpose for the better part of two months, was a huge crock of shit.

 _Then_ she'd discovered Lloyd was her sister's kid. Then the mercenary she'd fallen for in Sylvarant had turned out to be a traitorous angel, but _oh just kidding,_ not really, because he was double-crossing his murderous leader to help them. And _then_ said man had, furthermore, turned out to be her deceased sister's former husband. Oh, and Lloyd's father.

Sara's head lolled back against the chair. _What was life?_

"These past few days have been pretty… _exhausting_. I can't think straight."

It took a few seconds, but he slowly approached her. He held out one hand. In it was a forearm-sized wooden box. In all the darkness and her murky thoughts, she hadn't even noticed he'd been holding it.

"I brought you something," he murmured. "It might… help."

"Wha?" She sat up again, completely stunned. "R-really?"

He handed her the box. It was made of polished dark wood and had a top that slid over to one side; she opened it gingerly, her eyes wide, peering through the darkness.

She reached inside. Glass. A long bottleneck that she gripped and lifted up.

A dark-green bottle sat in her hands, full of an amber liquid. It had an ornate red, white and gold label that in the night's veil, she couldn't read. So she risked a tiny bit of illumination - a small flame from her pinky finger, which she held close to the bottle's surface.

 _Ho. Ly. Shit._

"No way. _No way._ " She gaped up at Kratos, exhaling a bewildered breath. _"Shut up."_

He frowned a little. "...I have not said anything."

"MacLallyn white label. Aged fifty years." She held the bottle out before her face. Then cradled it to her chest like a baby, once she realized how easily it could be dropped from that angle.

"Kratos. This bottle is worth more than Palmacosta."

He picked the leftover box and upended it. Two miniature tumbler glasses skidded into his hand. And he took the seat beside her, offering one of them, with enough of an impish smile that she could just barely see it through the shadows of his hair.

"Then let us open it and see why."

Sara opened her mouth to agree wholeheartedly but quickly reconsidered. "W-wait one damn second. Where did you get this? Does Cruxis secretly have some sort of treasure trove of-"

"Sixty-two varieties of red wines, forty-eight whites, sixteen labels of bourbon, twenty-two labels of scotch, and twelve labels of cognac?"

She blinked. "No tequila?"

"Not since my twenty-fourth birthday," he answered bitterly, like a scorned lover. Or a former idiot. They tended to go hand-in-hand, really. Sara snorted a laugh into her palm.

"I am not joking," he muttered, sinking thankfully back into the chair.

"You? Not joking? _Imagine that."_ His scowl made her laugh again.

A few seconds ticked by silently. She wanted to open the bottle and pour them both a glass, but felt suddenly, completely inept. Kratos been thoughtful enough to get her a gift for their, uh, _reunion_ of sorts _._ And what had she done for him? Fuck-all. That would not do whatsoever. Her mind began churning out half-assed possibilities.

"I… I um." Some awkward shifting and fidgeting. "I got you… uh…"

She heard the fabric of his tall collar shift as he turned his head towards her. Even in the dim light, she could see the peculiar quirk of one eyebrow.

"Th-this," she said finally, after fishing about in one of the pockets at her belt. "It's a button. From, uh, my favorite duster-"

"Sara," he began evenly. "You do not have to return every gift you receive with a-"

" _Take the button."_

Slowly, he reached out and plucked it from her palm. He placed it in one of his own pockets. And he bowed his head solemnly, though it was probably to hide his smirk. "...I shall cherish it always."

"Good," she intoned proudly, with a tilt of her chin. She set the bottle down on the small table between them and began to remove the wax coating around its cap. "So. First things first. I told Lloyd."

Kratos' breath hitched. He started to sit up, but she waved him back down.

"Not about _you,_ jeez. About me. And him."

He relaxed instantly. "I see."

Words started to flit from her thoughts completely. This was… a little weird. Since he was… and Anna was… yeah. Sara pretended to be completely absorbed in her task of freeing this sweet, sweet bourbon-

"And…?" he began expectantly.

"I gave him the picture," she decided. "Of me and her. He'd said never seen her before."

She heard all the air leave Kratos' lungs. "...What did he say?"

"Not much, really. I don't think he _could_ say much." Sara shrugged and finally freed the cap. She risked a glance up at him, only to find that he was mercifully staring off into the horizon, rather than her face.

"He needed some time to process it all," she continued softly, and with a warm smile. "...He hugged me, though. He was happy."

Kratos nodded. And she could've sworn she saw him smile, too. "Good." He picked up the glass she'd poured for him, just as she did the same.

"Cheers," Sara beamed, with a half-genuine, half-cynical laugh. "To completely fucked-up family reunions."

 _Clink!_ She brought the glass to her lips. Swallowed. And _oh gods_ it was perfect, just the right amount of flavor, and smoothness, and smoke… She closed her eyes to savor the taste, like any other active sense would take away from this immaculate experience.

"Do you approve?" She heard him say.

"That's an understatement."

He seemed to have enjoyed his own portion as well, if the thoughtful glint in his furtive eyes was any indication.

"The fact that you and Lloyd are together now is all that matters," he remarked factually. "There is no such thing as a normal family, truly."

"Amen to that." She began pouring another glass. The way the moonlight was hitting his face was almost ethereal and _extremely_ attractive, and she had a hard time not looking over at him. "So, Kratos. Is your tequila birthday story one of those secrets you still have to tell me?"

He idly ran his fingers along the armrest. "Perhaps. There are plenty."

"Start somewhere, then. Tell me one. Maybe… how you got involved with Cruxis in the first place?"

He rubbed his temple tiredly with two fingertips. "That would require several lifetimes to properly answer."

She gave him a flat stare.

"Once again," he assured, "I am not joking."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Just a little bit? Like a snippet? Come on, I'll give you one back."

She tried to look nonchalant, but really, everything inside of her was screaming for an answer. Kratos had _always_ been mysterious and private, and she'd made it a point to respect this, and not push him too far. But since the past two days had happened, she felt like he owed her, really. And her curiosity would not be easily slaked.

He sat up a little. Rested his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands between them. "...When I was young, I served in the military as a knight. My father was an esteemed general who groomed me to one day take his place. I was an only child - and as such, fell into the role without much say in the contrary. I never wanted to."

Sara's heart leaped around in her chest with bubbly enthusiasm. "You wanted to be a _chef_."

"Among other things," he continued. "I dreamed equally of teaching. I had a penchant for literature and history."

Of course. That made _total_ sense. Sara leaned over the armrest and sneered at him:

" _Nerd_."

Before she could blink, his hand shot out. It grabbed her glass, and it raised to his lips, and her next drink had become his.

"You _bastard_ -" She swiped at his hand and stole it back. "I'm not much better, really. I wrote and illustrated my own comic book when I was seven. _The Adventures of George Irving: Space Hound."_

Almost apologetically, he began pouring another portion into her glass. "George?"

"He was our dog. 110-pounds of patient, furry love." Sara started to smile. "Sissy used to set me on top of his back and lead me around the yard. We would pretend to do so many awesome things: climb mountains, fight evil armies-"

She wasn't looking, but Kratos smiled, too. "Go to space?"

"Of _course_. George was our rocket dog." Sara gestured grandly before her, with all the excitement of a sugar-rushed toddler. "Sissy even helped me make these little rocket engines out of paper towel tubes, and we would strap them to poor George's back, and…"

Her voice slowed, bit by bit, before it vanished entirely. She stared down at her feet. Then up at the stars. And finally over at Kratos, though it took a ton of courage to do so.

She couldn't see much of his handsome face, other than the perfect, subtle upward tilt of his lips. He had one ankle casually crossed over the opposite knee. His shoulders were relaxed, too, beneath that blue and white suit and all of those goofy golden belts.

He looked comfortable. At peace. And embraced by only the best of memories.

"...You loved her so much, didn't you," Sara said quietly. "With all your giant, nerdy heart."

And she would forever remember the clear, steadfast, honest tone of his velvet voice when he said simply:

"I always will."

"You'd better. She deserves nothing less."

Kratos nodded. "Indeed."

They simply sat together forever. Not talking, or planning, or forgiving, or confessing. Just being. Just breathing. She could hear the way he idly swirled the whiskey in his glass, and the crunching of his suit as he shifted slightly in his seat.

"Can I ask you something?" Sara said finally.

He slid his eyes over towards her and nodded.

"Is… _this_ okay?" She gestured stupidly back and forth between them. "Do you think this is okay? Are we violating some cosmic, unwritten law here?"

She could tell he was considering his words carefully. Not that he always didn't - but this time, in particular.

"Our time spent in ignorance of the truth does not make that time any less valid or genuine. _We_ happened well before any of this. The truth does not invalidate anything."

Exquisite bubbles billowed up into her chest. "Okay. Okay, yeah. That's… that's how I feel too."

His eyes closed. He went utterly, eerily still. "...You were grieving for her just as much as I was."

"Do you remember when were were on our way to Luin. And it was sunny. And we were walking up that hill, and… we talked about her a little bit?"

He still hadn't opened his eyes. Somehow it was easier that way.

"That was the first time, Sara," he admitted. "The first time I had spoken of her. To anyone."

"R...really?"

Now, he made it a point to look at her. Straight into her gaze, uninterrupted, unwavering. "You made it easy."

"I remember every second." She huffed a laugh, but didn't look away. "I was so nervous. And kind of jealous of whatever woman that had been able to put that gorgeous smile on your face."

His sharp eyes thinned a little, playfully. "...You're nervous now, Sara."

"Sh-shut up."

"You're stuttering."

"Well, this w-wasn't exactly one of the relationship quirks I had ever _prepared for_ , a-alright?"

She immediately downed her next drink. Kratos immediately began pouring her another.

"At the end of it all," Sara continued, "you said something about how we should honor our loved ones by being happy." Just _say_ it. Go on- "Do you think… that's what we can do, now?"

When he handed her the glass, a few of his fingertips just barely skimmed hers. And she was still debating on whether or not it was deliberate when his voice stilled her thoughts:

"We can try."

"Okay. It might take me a little while." She sighed. And she hoped her volcanic face wasn't terribly obvious in the darkness. "This is just… a lot. My mind still feels like slippery noodles."

He seemed to notice that her glass wasn't completely full. And somehow, though he didn't look away from her eyes, he gracefully filled it the rest of the way.

"Kratos Aurion." She reached for his hand. Found it. Let it make her wiggly and jittery all over again. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

His fingers curled, as did one edge of his mouth. "This bottle is far too small for that."

"Touche, mister blue-wings. Touche."


	38. Opus (Work)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

 _Opus_

* * *

 _And I don't want a never-ending life,  
_ _I just wanna be alive while I'm here_

* * *

Until recently, Zelos had considered himself a pretty worldly man.

Meltokio was _big_ , after all. Like, the biggest city in the world, basically - and he'd seen every inch of it. Every back alley, suspiciously silent beneath the patient moon. Every half-dressed, big-breasted girl with a lopsided smile on her painted face. Every skeptical, goading stare from powdered, pompous politicians whose clothes never seemed to fit quite right. From the outside, Meltokio smacked of gold; its innards rotted, bloated and as well-hidden as they were.

Zelos had never known anything different. On first instinct, he adored every gaudy, excessive inch of his beloved hometown, and would defend it with practiced enthusiasm. Tethe'alla's royal capitol valued loyalty; the Chosen was the pinnacle of this, a bastion of glamour, skill and success that embodied every Meltokio citizens' crowning achievement:

Glory. Fame. _Prettiness._

Zelos had mastered all of these things a long time ago. They bored him. This random market, a few miles outside of the Gaorrachia forest, contrarily piqued his interest. He walked casually down its streets, hands in his pockets, crimson head held high. This place was full of _life -_ not beauty, not order. Entropy, and chaos in its finest form; hooded and cloaked travelers, dusty families from the southern hills. Animals he had never seen, only _eaten_ \- plump chickens, lumbering cows. Little itty bitty fuzzy lambs with these adorable soft faces. Zelos pouted at them, and for a moment he actually regretted those veal dinners served to him on flawless white plates.

Zelos' fingers curled into his pockets. His perpetually smiling mouth thinned into something resembling a frown. He started to sweat a little, like guilt had leaked out in physical form on his forehead; thankfully, his headband took care of any evidence of this.

He kind of wanted to free the lambs as much as he wanted to fillet them and eat them as dinner. He locked gazes with one of the tiny things, and its giant, pleading, hopeful eyes…

"Not my fault you're so tasty," he mumbled. And his smile was back, and he continued walking forward, towards the weapons district, where he spotted a familiar pair of broad, tan shoulders and a head of pumpkin-orange hair.

Sara had her back to him. Four rather large men were in front of her; they obviously ran this weapons shop, and she'd gotten herself into some sort of argument over a pair of available swords. Said weapons sat out on the table between them, sublime and silver, crossed neatly; she tried to drag them forward towards her, after offering a bag of gald, but the biggest (and ugliest) of the men immediately thought otherwise, and slapped his palms down on their handles. The whole wooden table jerked. Sara scowled. So did the man; his brutish face gained far too many livid lines.

"That is _more_ than a fair payment," Sara was growling.

Mister big-gut sent her a condescending smirk. "How would you know? Doesn't look like you've ever fought with swords before, sweetheart."

"Take your gald. Give me the swords. It's simple."

Another of the men slithered up to the table. He was long and lanky, with all the grace of a flailing worm. He smiled at her, full of yellowed teeth and scaly lips. "Maybe you'd like to sweeten the deal, my lady."

"Those claws you've got are made from dragon talons, yeah?" The first one said. "Throw those in, and we might consider your offer."

"Your gauntlets, too," mister skinny added. "They're made from dragonscales. Only a fair trade for these damascus blades."

"You're not getting shit." Sara purposefully shoved the bag of gald forward. "Take it. Give me the swords."

"Excuse me," Zelos interjected.

Sara was the first to look at him. The other men followed suit shortly after.

"These blades are made from steel mined near the Altamira Mountains, correct?" And Zelos spoke now in his _legit_ voice. The one that left no room for argument. "Considering how rare dragons are now in Tethe'alla, and how abundant the mines in Altamira are, pretending mere Altamira steel is anywhere near comparable to dragonscale products is mere lunacy."

A few bewildered blinks, from all parties involved. Eventually, Big-Gut managed: "Who are you?"

"The Chosen," Zelos answered instantly, earning him several familiar gawks. "I am not unaware of the numerous unethical businesses scattered throughout Tethe'alla. It is my duty to target and outlaw them. Would you like to be included in this list?"

"N-no." Big-Gut trembled. It made Sara smile a little. She glanced back at Zelos with this impressed smirk that he instantly recognized and met. With subtlety, of course.

"This woman is a companion of mine. See to it that she is treated fairly." Zelos stepped forward. Planted his palms on the table. "Are we understood?"

"Of course." Bravado gone. Eyes wary.

Zelos grinned. "Excellent. Martel's blessing be upon you all."

"And also to you," the quadruplet of thieves repeated instantly. Before promptly gathering their remaining items and scuffling off towards the distant mountains.

Zelos met Sara's eyes. Hers were this weird shade of brown and black, a mixture of clear earth and dirty chestnut. Like most things about her, they scared him as much as they intrigued him. He winked at her.

"You're welcome."

"Shut up." She picked up the swords. She looked startled, humble, just for a beautiful instant. "But… really. You didn't have to do that."

"I exude chivalry. Can't help it." Zelos leaned closer to her. She smelled like citrus and far-off spices that he'd never tasted, and wasn't that just the most interesting thing ever. "Who are those for, eh? You don't fight with swords."

She met his gaze steadfastly. Her freckles were oddly appealing, this foreign collection of constellations on her cheeks. And she leaned in, until her face was quite honestly mere inches from his. His breath slammed to halt as he stared at her lips. He felt his eyes widen unstoppably, until she said in a raspy, liquid voice:

"Thanks, Z."

She brushed past him. Her shoulder scraped against his, and he noticed for the first time how they were so equally matched in height and build; her legs were the same length as his, and he swore their eyes were even at the exact same level. And Zelos didn't know her terribly well yet, but the ridiculous, pointed sashay to her hips could clearly only have been meant for him. He stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger as he watched her walk away.

"Anytime, lovely."

She waved back at him with one hand. Gradually, all of her fingers curled into a fist except her middle one. It made Zelos smile wider.

 _Damn_ , this was going to be fun.

* * *

"Defensers," Lloyd triumphantly christened his new swords.

Genis rolled his eyes. "Really? That's all you could come up with?"

"I mean." Lloyd's brow furrowed as he tested their weight and made a few mock slashes through the air. "The blades are pretty broad. They'd be just as good for defense as offense, I think."

Sheena had been leading them all to the edge of the forest; she glanced back at Lloyd over one shoulder, with a small smile. "I like that name."

Lloyd instantly beamed with pride. "Thanks, Sheena! I knew you'd agree with me."

"Um, yeah." A hint of a blush - thankfully, the darkness of the forest shrouded it a bit. "Of course."

Raine stared pensively up into the trees. The dark emerald canopy had become so thick that barely any sunlight pierced through, except in random patches scattered here and there. Flowers had managed to grow in these bits of brightness, a strange array of ochre-yellow and greyish-blue arranged in lopsided, whimsical circles.

"The Gaoracchia forest used to be just a normal forest a long time ago," Zelos announced.

Genis looked up from the path of scattered leaves he'd been walking on. "It's not… a normal forest?"

"Oh, you poor ignorant soul." Zelos gesured forth with dramatic flair. "It's _haunted."_

"H-haunted?"

The Chosen's voice was low and wavy. "One day, a clever thief hid a stolen treasure deeeeeep in the forest."

Lloyd had been striding along without much care, but now his shoulders started to hunch and he glanced around warily. "Treasure? What kind of treasure?"

"A _jewel_ , gods," Zelos spat impatiently. "Worth several billion gald. So _anyway-"_ The return of spooky-voice. "He _mercilessly slaughtered_ everyone who came looking for it."

Genis grimaced. "That's horrible…"

Zelos passed his palm along the trunk of a tree, then brought his hand before him and slowly rubbed his fingertips together. "Over time, the forest became _stained with blood_ , transforming into a _cursed place_ , haunted by the _lingering resentment_ of the people killed here."

Lloyd swallowed hard. "Are… are you serious?"

Genis barked a stiff laugh. "You're just trying to scare us… right?"

"Even now-" Zelos started to walk backwards now, so he could face both boys and up the ante on his performance, "-when travelers enter this forest, the thief's ghost comes to kill them. And that's not all…" He flitted behind them both, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders, and hissed: "The ones he killed forever seek to increase their numbers-"

"Uaaaah!"

Raine and Sara had been walking far enough ahead to avoid hearing any of this; Genis now darted for his sister and scrambled frantically to hang onto her robes, while Lloyd latched himself onto one of Sara's arms as he glanced morbidly into the surrounding foliage.

"Uh, kid?" Sara winced and tried futilely to tug her arm free. "Why are you-"

"Ghosts," he whispered sternly.

" _Murderous_ ghosts," Genis corrected.

Raine shot a glare back at Zelos, who was now casually strutting forward with his hands behind his head. "What did you do?"

"Nothing at all, my glamorous Professor."

"Lie detected," Presea stated factually. Zelos gaped at her, but she just kept walking, carrying that giant axe with impossible ease over one small shoulder. "Zelos fabricates false stories to inflict fear and suffering."

"Well damn, little Rosebud." Zelos sighed, his shoulders slumping. "It's no fun at all when you put it like that."

* * *

Eventually, they made it out of the forest alive and well (despite a few close calls with mysteriously-rustling branches or snapping twigs). The verdant ground faded into brown dust as mountains crawled towards the sky, replacing leagues of crooked trees. What was supposedly Altessa's place just kind of _appeared_ on the side of a mountain, hewn into the beige rock itself with only a small door and a round glass window ever telling of its existence. Well, there was a windchime; it dangled just beside the door. It was made of thick shells that _bonked_ together, although in a surprisingly-pleasant way. And a single lantern on its opposite side that, beneath the midday sun, went unlit.

"I guess this is it," Sheena said slowly. Small rocks shifted and crunched beneath her lavender boots as she approached the entrance.

Lloyd felt at once nostalgic. And maybe a little nervous, too. For the longest time he'd thought Dirk was the only dwarf pretty much ever. Lloyd wondered what this mysterious Altessa was like - if he had the same burly arms, and bushy eyebrows, and taste for beef stew and beer.

Colette was standing just behind him, staring ahead into nothingness, her magenta eyes hollow and unblinking. It made his stomach tense. He sucked in a breath and strode forward, hands as fists, until he passed Sheena and became the first one to knock on that pale wooden door.

 _Who will it be what am I gonna say why am I even here-_

"Who is it?"

The door was opened by something far from a dwarf. A young woman, actually, with eerily waxy perfect skin, and braided hair the color of mint leaves that hung in thick bangs over her forehead and just before her ears. She was elegant and graceful like a brittle fall leaf, and adorned in a simple black and green dress. Though her eyes were on Lloyd, she seemed to be staring _through_ him, like he were merely wind or a vapid cloud. Or that she could see far beyond flesh.

"Uh." Lloyd squared his budding shoulders. "Excuse us. We've heard there is a dwarf living here. Is there any chance we could see him?"

"You desire a meeting with master Altessa." The girl's voice was just _wrong._ It seemed to issue forth from her pale lips without air, like it only escaped from her throat, instead of being purposefully spoken. Her distant eyes roamed over them all once, before she stiffly turned and gestured past the door. "I am Tabatha, the master's aid. Please, come inside."

He started to step after this strange girl. But he halted quickly - because a familiar firm hand grabbed at his shoulder and made him pause.

"J-just kidding," he murmured. He smiled innocently up at Sara as she tousled his hair. Her other hand gave him a thumbs up as she purposefully headed inside ahead of him.

The air was stale, still. Not unpleasant, just… old, and tired. That green-haired girl walked forward strangely. Her limbs seemed rusty and unused. A large stone table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by a group of chairs and laden with trays of colorful fruit and gourds. They stood out starkly against the otherwise bland decor.

Lloyd realized there were a lot of their group, really. He and Sara, Sheena, the Sages, Colette, Zelos and now Presea, who entered last, her small stature seemingly dwarfed and hidden by the rest of their torsos and legs. Lloyd grimaced and hoped that their sheer size didn't appear too intimidating.

A hallway led down a small flight of stairs, just to the left of the front door. It was dimly-lit. Shadows lurked at its terminus, and displayed only the edges of each wall, sprinkled with various crafting tools - wrenches, torches, long rusty tongs that had seen much use, and were coated in half-melted metal, like a haphazard crown.

"...Who are you people?"

The voice grumble-growled from those shadows. Lloyd caught a glimpse of a bald head, broad, hunched shoulders and a wiry grey beard.

"My name is Lloyd. We've come in regards to our friends Colette and Presea. We need your help to make them Key Crests so that they can get better."

There was a long silence. In this hollow room, Lloyd's breaths felt deafening.

Then, the voice said slowly: "...Presea?"

Lloyd turned to the girl and nodded. She stepped forward, into the muted light that turned her pink hair a shade of warm silver. He heard a gasp, and the shuffling of feet.

"Leave at once."

"Huh?" Lloyd stepped closer, and could make out the dwarf's frame now, though he'd turned his back to all of them and now made for the far corner of the room. "But, uh, Mister Altessa. We've come a really long way for your help, and-"

"I don't want anything more to do with that girl! Leave!"

"Anything…" Lloyd blinked. " _'More'_? Do you know Presea?"

"Tabatha, get rid of them. Now!"

Fire boiled in Lloyd's gut. He started to speak again, but Raine's voice cut him short: "We apologize for the intrusion. We'll show ourselves out."

"But-"

She frowned at him like she had so many times before from behind her schoolroom pulpit. Reluctantly, he shut up and followed her back outside.

"What was that all about?!" Genis seethed. He glanced worriedly at Presea, who stared silently into the sky. "What does that geezer have against Presea?"

"I apologize," Tabatha said. "The Master does not want to get involved with Presea."

"It sounded like he knew of her," Raine began, crossing her arms. "Do you have any idea what he was talking about, Tabatha?"

Tabatha looked off to one side. It tried to be a sort of hesitant gesture, but came off more like someone had pushed a button somewhere and made her head turn. "The master regrets what he has done to Presea. He is the one who outfitted her with her Exsphere."

"He's-" Lloyd sputtered with rage. " _He_ did this to her?!"

"That's so cruel!" Genis shouted, glaring at the closed front door. "Why would he do that?"

"It seems that the rumors are true, then," Zelos offered. "It's been said that Altessa used to work for Cruxis. Something about an… Angelic Project."

On cue, the back of Lloyd's left hand sizzled and glowed. "The Angelus Project?" And he immediately looked at Sara, whose dark expression mirrored his own twisted insides. "That exists in Tethe'alla too?"

"Apparently," Sara growled. Her sharp gaze flicked to Zelos. "What else have you heard about the Angelus Project?"

"Not much." He shrugged. "No one in Meltokio knows details. It's all hearsay, really. I heard Cruxis was trying to make some sort of special Exsphere by experimenting with people."

Presea was standing lateral to all of them, facing the distant forest, maintaining her typical silence. Sara stared hard at the side of her small, soft face and the spikes of pink bangs that swayed over the girl's eerie, flat eyes. And that damnable little red gem sitting at the base of her neck, sucking away her soul, eating at her skin-

"We've gotta help her, too, Lloyd," Sara said quietly.

She heard him take in a breath and hold it. He nodded, then released it in a long sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, we do."

"If you are that committed," Tabatha intoned, gesturing southeast, over the mountains, "you may search for inhibitor ore in the Toize Valley Mine. It has been locked for years, but if you found a way inside, you could bring the ore here and attempt to make Key Crests." She bowed her head and made for the door. "I will attempt to persuade the master to help you. I must return. Please, come back again."

"The Toize Valley Mine?" Genis asked, watching the door close. "C-could we get inside somehow?"

Zelos pursed his lips thoughtfully. "That mine is owned by the Lezerano Company." He paused for a few seconds, clearly stewing over something in his head. Then, his face broke out in a confident smirk and he planted his hands on his hips. "The owner of Lezerano owes me a favor. I could get him to let us in."

"Really?!" Genis grinned, for once thinking something other than _shut up_ or _you're disgusting_ at Tethe'alla's Chosen. "Then let's go find him and ask for his help! Where is he?"

"Mizuho," Sheena stated factually, drawing all of their curious glares. She met them with a smile. "He's a well-known guest of my village. Which, fortunately, is not far from here at all."

Now, Presea moved for the first time in what felt like forever. It was just a few steps towards the forest, and a gesture forward with one of her arms. "I… want to go home."

"Oh, right." Zelos snapped his fingers. "She's from Ozette. We've gotta take her home. Well, let's drop her off and rest there for the night then, yeah? Sound like a plan?"

Lloyd's skeptical glare eased into a grateful smile. "You're a decent guy sometimes, Zelos."

" _Shh_." The Chosen's first finger flew forward and pressed against Lloyd's mouth. "Don't blow my cover."

* * *

 _I'll be the calm, I will be quiet  
_ _Stripped to the bone, I wait  
_ _No, I'll be the stone; I'll be the hunter  
_ _A tower that casts a shade_

* * *

Kratos' contingency plan had been to die.

It would've been a two-birds-with-one-stone type of situation, really - Origin's seal would be released. And someone - perhaps Lloyd, or at this point, more likely Yuan - would be finally able to remove Yggdrasill from his golden throne, and put a stop to this cycle of 'regeneration.' This… _madness_ , that Kratos had never been able to end himself. Because of blonde hair, and glimmering blue eyes, and a melodic, trusting voice that had once called him 'teacher.'

Secondly, and far less importantly: dying would finally allow Kratos to rest. _Truly_ rest. He'd wondered, almost literally forever, how he would eventually meet his end-

And doing so at the hands of Anna's sister seemed nothing but appropriate.

Those fleeting nights he spent with Sara as a mere mercenary in Sylvarant were nothing but genuine. The things he murmured against her skin. The way she felt beneath his palms - warm, strong. _Alive._ And the way he listened to the steady, reassuring waves of her breath beneath his ear-

None of that had been a lie.

Losing Anna had torn out his heart. Sara had returned it to his chest.

Well. She'd kind of _thrown_ it there, honestly, with her trademark reckless abandon; he'd just happened to be standing in the right spot to catch it. Call it dumb luck. Because he certainly hadn't seen the toss coming whatsoever.

This high up, the windows of the Tower of Salvation frosted a little at their edges; ice crystals crawled along the glass in graceful, geometric patterns. Kratos stared through them anyway, down to the sprawling land below. He used to hate looking at it, the twisted world he'd helped build; it was solely a reminder of one of his countless failures. Guilt had clouded his head for fifteen grey, murky years - you'd think after four-thousand of them, a mere handful of just over a dozen wouldn't matter in the slightest, or seem nearly as long. That had _not_ been the truth.

But lately - and he honestly didn't quite know what to do with himself because of this - Kratos felt just a tiny bit… _okay_.

The dark corners of the world didn't seem so shadowed. People were no longer aimlessly milling about like so many two-legged sheep; they were _living_. It's not like things were anywhere near fixed - but they felt, for the first time, manageable.

Kratos frowned at his reflection. He wanted to smile a little, but instantly suppressed the urge. Behind the pale outline of his frame evanesced a familiar flash of pearl-white and gold. He met his Lord's stare in the glass.

"It's small, isn't it," Yggdrasill said.

Kratos waited patiently for elaboration.

"The world," the golden-haired seraph continued. He stood slightly behind Kratos. He never did stand beside him. Not anymore. "Small and meaningless. Ready for a change."

"Yes, my Lord."

Yggdrasill never smelled like anything at all. He was like a cloud, or a beam of light; merely a lifeless, inanimate physical presence. His eyes were green now, like bottle-glass, or dark emeralds. Like his sister's had been. Kratos missed their original sky-blue, and the way they used to sparkle impishly up at him.

"How much longer?"

"I estimate ten weeks," Kratos replied. "She learned sufficiently after fifty-eight days. However, due to Tethe'alla's customs on this matter, it is possible the second vessel will require more training than the first, once he is aware."

Yggdrasill's gaze raked across the side of Kratos' face like ravenous talons. "It has taken us this long to find both of them, Kratos. I will be disappointed should they fail. You are certain the female whore will provide adequate instruction to the second vessel?"

It took everything in Kratos to not deliver the quickest, purest retribution for the angel's choice of words. Calling Sara a whore was akin to calling him a saint: the farthest thing possible from the truth. Kratos set his jaw and instead continued staring into the sky.

"Helping others is in her nature," Kratos said. And he wanted to say it proudly, but instead remained deadpan, factual. "She has been trained well, and proven her abilities. As soon as the truth is known to both of them, I can assure you she will succeed."

"How _sweet_ ," Yggdrasill spat.

Kratos did not move or speak. His statement had ventured too close to being a compliment - and when spoken about a human, this instantly drew a precise, venomous bite from his leader, like a schoolboy given a punishing slap on the wrist.

"I apologize, my Lord," Kratos said quietly.

But it didn't matter; Yggdrasill had already moved on mentally. "Ten weeks," he was murmuring to himself. He idly passed one hand along his hip-length flawless hair. He didn't nod, though. That was below him. "Longer than I'd like. But a meaningless delay, all things considered."

Kratos, however, was fond of nodding. It meant that words weren't required.

"I would see Sylvarant's Chosen fulfill her purpose," Yggdrasill went on, turning swiftly away from the window. Like the sight of so much life had begun to offend him. "Calling forth Niflheim's power should be our last resort. However: if it becomes clear the Chosen girl will fail again for any reason, you will bring both vessels before me. Understood?"

Kratos bowed to his leader. And he nodded once more, though it went unseen. "As you wish."

A flash of light, and a rain of crystal feathers - and Yggdrasill was gone.

Kratos closed his eyes and leaned one shoulder against the frigid glass. He stood there for several moments, relishing in silence.

Just breathing.

When he opened his eyes again, they were diamond-hard. Determined. Ready. His patchwork heart thudded mightily, vital and _alive._ Pale blue wings arose from his back; he arched his spine into them, making them stretch and flare.

Ten weeks…

No rest for the wicked. Kratos had work to do.

* * *

Thank you for reading, as always :)  
First set of lyrics: "Spirits" by The Strumbellas  
Second set: "Thousand Eyes" by Of Monsters and Men (seriously Kratos' song)


	39. Perago (Finish)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

 _Perago_

* * *

For the first time in weeks, Sara had actually been dreaming about something other than death or demons.

She'd had this dream before. It was _nice_. It involved the sun glaring at her, and the wind pressing against her face. And occasional bugs in her hair, of course, but Sara never minded. It was the first time she'd ridden a dragon on her own, at the ripe old age of twelve.

She'd been as mortified as she was thrilled. She dreamed of the way the worn leather straps had crunched in her tight palms, and the new, incredible feeling of the beast's groans and breaths shuddering up her legs and into her own bones. Sara had been addicted instantly. She was a tiny girl, easily twenty pounds beneath others her own age. As a result, each flap of the beast's wings threatened to blow her over, to send her flailing into the sky.

But Sara was strong, too. Stubborn, and too tenacious for her own good. She held on. And her light weight had quickly become her best asset; each dragon she rode could carry that much more cargo, could get deliveries placed faster.

Above the clouds, silence reigned. Wind drowned out most noise. It drowned out her thoughts, too. Allowed her mind to relax, to heal. Nearly two decades later, her hands would still clench around blankets, and she would still smile as if the wind were sliding over her ears and along her jaw-

 _...ck. -ock._ _Knock-_

The world condensed instantly. The sun paled, its warmth vanishing from her cheeks and hair…

Sara sucked in a breath and shot up straight in her bed. The noise was coming from the door of her room at the House of Guidance just outside Gaoracchia Forest. She barely had the right of mind to glance at the widow - still dark, and she couldn't see the moon from here, so about two in the morning. Her fingers instinctively curled around the dagger beneath her pillow.

Sara flung off the covers, found her feet, and opened the door-

"H-hey, Sara," Lloyd said.

His shoulders were slumped. He looked tired. He was wearing his usual black undershirt, the one he slept in, that matched his pants. His boots were on, though haphazardly tied, like he'd been distracted in getting dressed. One of his hands scratched idly at the back of his head.

"I know it's late," Lloyd went on, "but I couldn't sleep. Over the past few days I've thought of so many questions, and I-"

Sara backed up and instantly gestured inside with one arm. And behind the door, she swiftly, and without notice, set down the dagger. "Shut your face. Come in right now. I'll make hot cocoa. With extra marshmallows."

He grinned at her as he sat down. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Sara said. " _Anytime._ I mean that. You just think of your first question, okay?"

His look of utter relief made her heart dance. He couldn't see the way she bit her bottom lip and grinned as she turned away from him and fired up the stove (it was _electric,_ something she was still getting used to, and quite honestly preferred the old gas contraptions back in Sylvarant. These seemed too… _weak_.) She poured some water from the sink into a small pot, and retrieved a small paper packet from one of the cupboards, along with a pair of white ceramic mugs hand-painted with Martel's holy symbols.

Lloyd looked as awkward as he was hopeful. The starlight was the only illumination in the dim room; Sara fixed that by turning on a lamp beside her bed, which she sat down on the foot of, facing him, hands in her lap.

This had been inevitable. The fact that it had only taken him a few days was even better. Best to get as many things out in the open as possible.

Though it still made her nauseous. But that was beside the point.

The water on the stove had just began to hiss when he managed to ask: "Where was she born?"

"Luin. Thirty-eight years ago this year."

"Luin," Lloyd echoed. He looked down at the carpet for a moment before his soft brown eyes snapped up to hers. "So that's why… when I went to the Asgard Ranch… you said Luin was all you had left of her."

Sara nodded. "Yeah. Exactly."

"So, when you, Kratos and I took down Kvar-"

"We all-" Shit. She shook her head quickly. Sleep had made her clumsy. "We _both_ avenged her. Together."

The way Lloyd's hand on his thigh tightened into a fist was all the thanks she needed in that department.

"What… what did she like to do?"

"I always remember her reading." Sara let out a long breath and started to smile. "She loved stories. She read a lot to me. She told me in a few letters that she liked reading to you too."

Lloyd looked up at her, and it was extremely difficult for her to not lunge forward and smooth the pensive frown from his soft face. "Letters?"

"Yeah." Sara futilely attempted to tame her hair again. "When she was taken to the ranch, she wrote me letters once a week. The Desians never knew, because there were some prisoners who had outside contacts with a resistance network."

It took a few seconds, but Lloyd carefully asked: "Do you still have them?"

Sara pointed to her head with one finger. "In here, yes. I had to burn all of them. But I memorized every one."

She could feel Lloyd watching her back as she went to the stove again and fixed up their cocoa. His cup got twice as many marshmallows, of course.

"So… you never saw her again after she got taken to the ranch?"

"No." Sara turned from the stove, holding a steaming mug in each of her hands. She carefully set Lloyd's down on the end table beside the couch before easing her own in her lap. "She told me to move far away. Since she was the best match yet for the Angelus Project… that would've put me next in line."

Lloyd now looked at her with his trademark sense of empathy. Sara cleared her throat and waved it away. "Anna didn't want that to happen. She wanted to protect me. So I moved to Kozei, where you found me."

"You didn't know?" He paused, as if he'd known that question were not nearly specific enough: "You didn't know we were related?"

"Not at all," Sara answered truthfully. And she tried to take a distracting sip of her cocoa, though it was still far too hot, and nearly scalded her upper lip. She scowled down at it. "Not until we went to Dirk's house. Not until I talked to him. Although I guess it was probably a little weird how much we had in common, but…"

"The wafflewich," Lloyd muttered. One side of his mouth pricked into a smile. It reminded Sara so damn much of his father.

"And you aren't any good at words or spelling, either," Lloyd went on. "Just like me."

Sara pouted a little. "Well, uh. That's because I had to start working when Anna was taken from me. I was only ten. I didn't exactly get the best education."

Lloyd idly stirred his mug. "Neither did I. Dad's Dwarven Vows were all I learned until I entered Iselia's school when I was eight."

"Dwarven Vows?"

"134 of them," Lloyd grumbled. "Dirk wouldn't let me eat dinner until I could recite each one from memory."

Sara straightened her back. And started to ask more, but quickly reconsidered. This was about _his_ questions, not hers. She slowly sipped her cocoa again, although this time much more gingerly. "What's your next question?"

He was silent for a little while. Then: "You said… she liked to read to me?"

"She said you loved the story of Bob the Bear most of all."

His little giggle made her heart happy. "Bob the Bear, huh? Why did I like that one so much?"

"Probably because you wanted to be like Bob." She pricked one eyebrow at him knowingly. "He was always getting into trouble."

"What else did she say about me?"

There were a million ways to answer that question. It took Sara awhile to decide how to do so.

"That you were beautiful," she settled for, finding that the words might as well have belonged to her. "That you were… her whole world."

There was no mistaking his gaze now. It was fixated solidly on the back of his left hand. "Mom…"

"That… you hated vegetables," Sara went on. "Tomatoes, especially."

Lloyd wrinkled his nose. "I still do." Then his brow furrowed. "Wait, isn't a tomato a fruit?"

"Hell if I know," Sara grumbled. "You loved to eat everything else, though. And you liked to laugh at your own burps. And you always thought it was funny when you tripped and fell on your face. You hardly ever cried. You just laughed instead."

Thank gods, he hadn't stopped smiling. "What else was she like?"

"She was graceful," Sara said quickly. "Completely unlike us."

Lloyd peered down at his own chest. "I'm not graceful?"

Sara snorted. "Meh."

Lloyd stuck his tongue out at her.

"Stubborn as a mule, though," Sara went on, smirking warmly. "Pretty sure that's a requirement to be an Irving."

Lloyd dramatically wiped at his brow. "At least I'm off the hook for that one. I'll use that as an excuse in the Professor's class next time."

" _Brilliant_."

"Right?" He grinned proudly. "I thought so."

"We saw our grandpa a lot growing up," Sara went on, picturing the crotchety, humpbacked man with round eyeglasses and a well-used cane. "He was always cranky. He would yell about every little thing. But her motto was always 'kill them with kindness.'" Sara paused for a short sip of her cocoa, like it were a shot. Which she kind of wished it were, 2:30am be damned. "Whenever someone was mean or angry, Sissy - Anna - would just try and make them feel better. She cared about everyone she met. She wanted all life to be respected."

Lloyd let out a long breath. But his eyes were shining in that perfect, inspiring, and entirely _Lloyd-_ ish way. "She sounds amazing."

"Yeah," Sara agreed softly. "She was."

Silence clung to the air. Lloyd felt like her equal, and had been so, in Sara's head, for a long time. She was still getting used to being the _adult_ in this mess of a relationship, so it took her awhile to decide on what to say.

"Uh. Do we n-need to stop for now? We can continue this later, if you want."

He opened his mouth. Forced out a few syllables, before words followed. "Just… one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Did she ever talk about my dad?"

... _Shit_.

"Kvar said…" Lloyd's fingers kept twitching around the rim of his mug. "He said my dad killed my mom. Is… Was that true?"

Sara closed her eyes. And patiently, vertebrae by vertebrae, straightened her back.

"The final letter I got from Anna said that the Desians were close to catching her. She said… if they finally caught up with her, they would… she wouldn't survive." Sara stood. She remembered, upon her initial inspection of the room, that the desk by the door had a pad of paper and a pen resting beside it. She picked up the latter and began scrawling some words onto the sepia-toned paper; her handwriting was _the worst,_ but right now it would have to do.

She wrote that final letter, word-for-word, in her dumb, blockish script. Lloyd seemed to have stopped breathing; the pen scraping against the paper became the only sound in the room. The _world,_ it honestly felt like.

"Here." Deliberately, Sara folded up the paper and handed it to him, hoping her hand wasn't shaking too bad, although there's no way it couldn't have been. "This is what her last thoughts were about you and your father. She called him her Hero."

Gingerly, like it were going to flay the flesh from his fingers, Lloyd took the letter.

"You don't have to read it now," Sara reassured pointedly. "But I think you should know, when you're ready. Because only her thoughts mattered. Only _her_ truth mattered. Not what might have happened."

Anna's truth. About the man, the Hero. Not the mercenary.

And certainly not the seraph.

"Okay," Lloyd said quietly.

"Okay," Sara repeated.

"We should tell everyone soon."

Sara's stomach clenched. "That's your decision, kid. I'm fine with whatever you think is best."

Lloyd smiled at her. "They're your friends, too, Sara. Don't forget."

Oh, that simple, perfect wisdom. It eased her persistent nausea and made her chest warm and bubbly.

"Of course," she croaked. _No crying._ "Goodnight, Lloyd."

He started to walk away, down the hall, staring at that letter still in his hand. His steps were uneven and distracted. He paused, then swiftly turned back around, like he'd forgotten something terribly important. Sara had already halfway closed the door to her room when he shoved through it and returned his forehead to its apparently favorite spot against her left collarbone, where it burrowed.

"Thank you," he muttered.

There was no way he didn't feel the breath hitch in her chest. She closed her eyes and nodded against his hair. It smelled like wind and sunshine.

"Get some sleep, now," Sara insisted. "She'd worry about you."

He nodded as he grinned against her shirt. He hugged her once, still a bit stiff and awkward, before he let go and headed back down the hall.

Finally, Sara closed the door. As its latch clicked, she slumped forward. Her forehead thunked against the painted wood.

"God _dammit_."

She spotted a pale flash of blue light that bounced off the beige wall beside her. Something shuffled and rattled near the room's balcony door. Sara didn't bother looking, even through the sound of it sliding open, then softly easing closed again.

"You make a good stalker," she murmured.

Kratos frowned. "I try."

"How much of that did you hear?"

A few heavy, tense seconds of silence. Then, in his quiet, low voice:

"'Bob the Bear, went out on a dare, through the woods one day…'"

Fresh spires of pain lanced through her heart. Sara turned around to face him. Even with that sword at his hip, and his proud blue and white suit, Kratos looked remarkably timid. Either by choice or inability, he refused to look at her and instead kept studying his boots.

He probably had more valuable information to tell her, to help them all along their journey. She wanted to be glad he was here. Wanted to appreciate the sharp lines of his face, the handsome spread of his broad shoulders. And she really tried to stop her hands from curling into fists, to dampen the growl beginning to boil in her chest.

It didn't work.

"'Did my dad really kill my mom?' How the _hell_ am I supposed to answer that question, Kratos?" Sara flung her arms in the air and scoffed a bitter laugh. "What the fuck do I say to that? Do I even have the right?"

He flinched. And after a few silent seconds, managed: "What was in the letter?"

"Nothing specific." Only the words that had crushed Sara's faith. That had made her wish _she_ was dead, too. No big deal. "Just… her final thoughts. About both of you."

He breathed a long sigh. "Alright."

"He was looking at me like I knew all the answers. Which I _do._ " She blinked away a few bitter tears. "He trusts me, and I lied to his face. How can I keep _doing_ this, Kratos?"

The seraph turned his gaze to the window. "...Perhaps you should not have told him."

Her jaw dropped, before she hissed a snarl through gritted teeth. "So I should just keep letting him believe that he's alone? You're not here for him, dammit - _I_ am! You don't know what it's like!"

Kratos recoiled like she'd attempted to punch him. That was a low blow. Sara knew it. But rage currently outshone remorse by a longshot.

"It only makes matters more complicated, Sara." His eyes still wouldn't meet hers. "It was your decision to tell him. Therefore, you must endure the consequences."

 _Fury_.

Instant, volcanic flames that pierced her chest, that made her palms glow, and shadowed, wicked wings flicker to life from her shoulders. Sara stopped just short of shoving him through the glass door.

"For _you!_ I have to do all of this for _you!_ Because I have to keep _your_ secret!"

His own shining wings made an appearance - soft lines, crystalline light. The literal opposite of hers. He managed to tilt his jaw with some sense of pride. "Your suffering does not change the truth - that this information must stay hidden for his sake."

"Then tell me this: what am I supposed to do when he asks me more about you? When he asks me where his dad is? Am I just supposed to keep lying through my teeth?"

The broken grimace on Kratos' face would have, at any other time, made Sara want to try everything in her power to take away its source.

Not now. Not at _all_.

"Oh, you don't have an answer for _that_ , do you?" she hissed. "You're so quick to dole out wisdom to everyone but _yourself!_ "

"I never asked you to tell him about your relation to Anna. I asked only that you do not tell him about me."

"Well, fuck me for having a conscience, Kratos! Maybe I should be more like you, and just not _give a shit_ about anyone but myself!"

"How angry are you?"

Sara blinked once. Then once more. " _What_?"

He was eyeing the shadows along her back with calculation. "Compare what you feel now to the day we met in Kozei. How angry are you?"

"The same," she snarled. Her Exspheres flashed their agreement. "Probably more."

"Good," he said factually. "You have come far. You will need it."

Well. That was certainly one way to diffuse a tense situation.

Sara's wings vanished. So did his. The room cleared, until all she heard were his steady breaths, and the wind as it whistled by the balcony door.

In her rage, she'd ended up right in front of Kratos. Now that they were face to face, and she didn't entirely feel like stripping the flesh from his bones - it felt sort of good to be this close.

"Need it for what?"

His vivid cinnamon eyes intently studied her face. "I have come here to warn you. Yggdrasill knows who you are. He will seek to use you for his cause. It is only a matter of time. You must be prepared to _use_ your demons - not avoid them."

She took in a breath; it caught, lingered at the back of her throat. "Yeah, I've got that covered. My head's a happy little fucked-up family now. You still haven't explained to me how this situation with Lloyd will get any better-"

"It will not."

She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it when his fingers found her hand. They were a bit unsure. But they were kind, and warm, and poured water on the coals of her anger.

"None of it will get better. Not for a while." Kratos brought her hand to his chin. His eyes slowly closed as he spoke against her knuckles. "Be patient. I know you are strong enough to do what is necessary."

Sara sighed dejectedly. " _Patient_. Right. You don't know me very well, then-"

"I know all of you, Sara."

Well, damn. Wasn't that the honest truth.

Her eyes widened. Her face erupted uncontrollably. She watched silently as he stepped into her and gripped her hand tight. He was breathing slow and deliberate against her temple, and she could no longer bring herself to put up a fight about any of it.

"Hesitation," Kratos began gently. "Regret. Frustration. These things are fruitless. Make no room for them in your mind."

"Tch." Sara smirked. He didn't see it, because her face was practically pressed against his neck, and her hands were idly tracing along those stupid, yet somehow incredibly attractive belts adorning his chest. "So says the lord of self-guilt. Who taught you otherwise, huh?"

"Lloyd," Kratos answered evenly. "And you, perhaps. Whether or not I wanted the lesson at all."

"Well, my disciple. _You're welcome_."

His lips brushed along her cheek first. His fingers were gripping her chin - just firmly enough to get her attention, to raise her head. She thought briefly of fighting against them.

But then his mouth was against hers - a sublime combination of curious and intent.

And this was not simple Sylvarant. This was not mere Kratos-the-mercenary.

This was the seraph, the traitor, the Hero. The suicidal declaration of I-still-want-you despite every towering mountain of contrary bullshit.

Sara pressed up onto her tiptoes. Her arms slung around his shoulders. She gripped hard at the back of his neck. She kissed him for a thousand reasons, and to prove another thousand of them wrong.

" _Sara_ -" The way his voice rumbled against her lips made her heart flail. His hands clamped onto her hips and urged her close against _all_ the right places. She made a small noise of appreciation when they continued up her back, beneath her shirt, and his palms slid along the bare curves of her spine.

"For once in your life, Kratos," she growled, "finish what you've started."

He grabbed hold of her wrists. The mattress groaned as he pinned her on top of it. Sara stared wide-eyed up at his wings as they reappeared along his shoulders and spread into the still air. Her back arched heavenward, into him, as he murmured against her ear:

"I intend to."

* * *

There was just this perfect hill near the House of Guidance. It sloped upwards gracefully, towards the horizon; in the dim light of the distant moon, it made for a picturesque landscape.

Genis had noticed lately that Presea didn't sleep much. Not that he was _trying_ to notice, but she just somehow seemed to be awake whenever he did. And tonight he'd heard her soft, even footsteps against the mossy ground. In what he hoped was a subtle frenzy, Genis got to his feet and followed her silhouette.

"D-do you like the moon?" He asked. He had literally no idea how his voice had started working. But it drew her dull blue eyes to him, and they blinked once, slowly, as if in disbelief.

"I work late," Presea intoned flatly. "The moon is a sufficient source of light."

"Work?" Genis grinned. "What do you do for work?" Then he frowned instantly. Was that an okay question? Presea seemed very private… should he have kept his mouth shut _oh gods-_

"Woodcutting" she answered.

"Oh. Hehe. That makes sense."

She silently stared ahead. A breeze came through and softly ruffled her bangs.

"I-I mean," Genis stammered, idly kicking at a small rock, "not that you look like a, uh, woodcutter or anything. Unless you, like, w-want to. In which case, y-you look great! Well, I'm s-sure you always look great-"

Suddenly, he heard the faint jangling of a small bell. The grass rustled somewhere just behind him. Genis turned around towards the noise; Presea appeared entirely disinterested.

Corinne trotted cheerfully up to both of them, his poofy blue tails fluttering and twitching. He paused just beside Presea and peered up at her. "Oh hey, I haven't met you yet, pigtail-girl."

"Her name is _Presea_ ," Genis corrected indignantly.

"Hi, pigtail-girl. I'm Corinne."

Presea gradually turned her head to stare down at the creature. They stared silently at one another for several seconds. Genis kept glancing back and forth between them expectantly, until Presea announced:

"You look soft."

"Wha?" She picked him up, easing her small hands behind his front legs and lifting him in front of her face. "Th-thanks, pigtail-girl-"

She pressed her face deliberately into his furry underbelly. "Soft."

"What-" Corinne looked at Genis desperately. "What do I do?"

"Um." Genis hid both a smile and an amused laugh behind one hand. "She's way too strong for me to do anything. Just go with it, I guess?"

"Corinne," Sheena called from the bottom of the hill. She trotted up to join them. "What are you- oh, g-gods, is she _eating_ him? Presea?"

"Furry," Presea said factually.

"Not eating," Genis sighed. "Just… admiring."

* * *

A day of travel passed quickly. Traversing through the Gaoracchia forest towards Ozette had proved no small feat. Lloyd and Genis were adamant about not sleeping in the forest itself, so they managed to climb out of its darkness and forge a camp just outside the wall of trees.

"...Hello?"

Sara murmured the word halfheartedly. As night watch of their group, dealing with flailing members of her own party had honestly been last on Sara's list of potential threats.

Zelos sucked at sleeping tonight, apparently. Sara knew why. It didn't take more than few seconds of witnessing the way his brow furrowed, or the tense downturned twinge of his mouth, or his uneven breaths. Because it reminded her completely of herself.

"Hey." She frowned, and sank to her knees. His normally grinning and carefree dumb face was now twisted and pale. Sara nudged his shoulder. "Uh. Hey, Z. You should wake up, I think."

He hissed a curse in his sleep. She smiled a little. He was pretty good at cursing. Not as good as her, but enough to warrant slight merit. "Okay, come on. Wake up, asshat." Her favorite insult. Just in case he was faking.

At the next nudge of his shoulder, Zelos' eyes flew open. He didn't seem startled, really - just kind of lost, and curious. He was clearly good at playing this off as something normal and lighthearted. But to Sara - Reigning Queen of Shitty Nightmares - his heaving chest, and the dark, edgy look in his normally sky-blue eyes gave literally everything away.

He adjusted his headband. And his expression of astonishment immediately melted into snide interest.

"Watching me as I sleep? I'm flattered, my Fiery Temptress."

Sara pursed her lips. "I'm _night watch_ , duh. That includes you. Sounded like one hell of a nightmare."

He yawned and idly stretched his arms behind his head. "Par for the course, when you've scorned as many lovely ladies as I have."

She abruptly shoved a glass into his hand. He blinked at her, astonished.

"Ladies don't fuck up your head that bad," Sara murmured. She was digging through her pack, but she kept glancing back at him, pinning him with a knowing glare.

One edge of Zelos' mouth curled into a smirk. "Oh, really? How would you know? That sounds like an enticing story. Please, _do_ elaborate. "

"I'm not drunk enough to answer that." She procured a green bottle full of amber liquid. Her eyebrow raised suggestively as she gestured to it. "Besides - I owe you for your chivalry."

Zelos blinked again. Then grinned. "Post-nightmare shots. My _favorite_."

"Mine too."

"Is this common in Sylvarant?"

"Only if you're awesome."

"I'll cheers to that, lovely."

The sound of the whiskey pouring in to their glasses seemed the only noise for miles, except for the occasional chirp of an insomniac cricket or the rustling of nearby trees. The fire had died long ago; Sara now used her free palm as a makeshift flashlight. Zelos was evaluating his whiskey with a few furtive sniffs when he noticed this, and gestured to her hand.

"A talent of yours?"

"Not mine. My dragons." She stared down into her own glass. "Their names were Tarja and Ko'tenda. The Desians in Sylvarant felt like it'd be a good idea to try and harness their strength and ability to control flames. It didn't work so well, as you heard in Sybak."

Zelos shifted into an easy crosslegged position. He remembered that room in Sybak. And the strange shadows Sara had somehow made, that had sort of called to him, and pulled him closer-

He shook his head quickly to make the memory fade. "Ah, yes. Dragons can make Exspheres?"

"Apparently. Whoever came up with the whole Exsphere-producing thing is way smarter than me." She frowned. "Way more of an asshole, too."

For several moments, he seemed to be uncharacteristically considering his words. But then he smiled and raised his glass to hers. "To a good nights' sleep. Despite assholes."

She clinked her glass against his. They both downed their shots. He was still staring down at his with a bit of a wide-eyed, impressed smirk when she asked: "Who's your asshole?"

Slowly, Zelos quirked one eyebrow at her. "In all my womanly conquests, Sara darling, I don't believe I've ever been asked that question before."

She waved his disbelief away. "Shut up. I mean - who's the asshole that causes your nightmares?" Her voice darkened. "Mine was a Desian named Kvar. He kidnapped my sister and took her to a human ranch."

"' _Was_?'"

"Yep. Lloyd and I killed him."

Zelos went silent for a little while. His hand extended towards her in a wordless request. Sara was staring at his haphazard crimson hair and the strange, sudden lines aging his smooth face as she refilled his offered glass.

He thought of cold. Of silent, muffled screams and bloodied snow. Of biting air that seized his lungs, and froze his hair-

"She knew my father," Zelos murmured. "She was a half-elf."

The Chosen's voice was concrete and left no room for questions. He seemed at once to close off and don a set of invisible armor. So Sara simply nodded, and opted to pour herself another glass, too. "You seem to be a minor alcoholic like myself, Z. Tethe'alla clearly has its own vices."

"Heh." Zelos flicked his eyes to hers. "Vices are a way of life in Meltokio."

"Why?" Sara asked earnestly. "You guys have like, literally _everything_ here. Plenty of food, heat, cool air - electric goddamn stoves! In Sylvarant, I lived on table scraps for the better part of two decades. Vices were a necessity to stay sane."

"It's the same here. More doesn't mean better."

Sara fidgeted idly with the edge of his silky, embroidered blanket. "You're literally the last person I'd expect to say that."

"It's because I have the most."

"Daaaaamn." Sara managed an impressed smirk. "That's _deep_."

Zelos scoffed a jovial laugh. "Ah, I thought so too. Did it work?"

"Might want to look a little darker upon delivery. Drama is key."

He hissed a curse, absently taming his hair. "I knew there was something missing."

"Care to tell me more about your asshole?"

Zelos snorted. "Not shy, are you?"

She raised her full glass to eye level and gestured it to him. "I thought we'd reached that point in our weird friendship by now."

He leaned closer to her, until his lips were threatening to press against her neck. He smiled seductively. " _Friendship_?"

"Shut up." She shoved him back, ignoring his pout. "Cheers, first of all."

"Absolutely." Another shot. On Zelos' remarkably empty stomach, it felt as good as it did nauseating. So of course, he instantly wanted more.

"Second," Sara started, "let's just get this out of the way: I will never sleep with you."

"I know."

The surprised droop of her face made his honesty worth it. He met her gape with another complacent grin. "I dunno who they are, but someone else has your heart. It's terribly obvious. You've got shit for a poker face."

Sara blushed. It made him grin wider as she emptied the bottle into his glass.

"You solve uncomfortable situations with alcohol, Sara. I like your style."

"Told you we'd get along."

"Her name was Belinda."

Sara stilled. Then asked carefully: "Your asshole?"

Zelos honestly had no idea why he kept talking. Probably the whiskey. It coated his brain in fuzzy numbness, helped fend off the uncomfortable disdain of remembrance. He stared hard down at his hands as they sat in his lap, and managed factually:

"She murdered my mother in front of me when I was six years old."

...Well, _damn._

Sara breathed a long sigh. For several seconds, she could do nothing but stare at him, and the completely unfamiliar, out of place fatigue on his normally bright face.

"Belinda. What happened to her?"

"She's dead," Zelos stated, with a nonchalant shrug. "I was a little kid, so I don't remember how she was killed. It's all… kind of a blur. But I know she died that day, too. And from that day on, I became more or less a slave to the Church."

"That's rough, buddy," Sara managed. She idly traced one fingertip around the rim of her glass. "My parents were murdered by muggers when I was four. My older sister raised me in their place. Then when she was taken from me, my dragons raised me."

A smile eased across his tense face. "My butler Sebastian raised me after my parents. He's a good dude."

"My dragons were pretty awesome parents, too. They taught me to fly and fight with my claws." She smiled back. "And brought me fresh, meaty snacks."

Zelos wrinkled his nose. "Gross."

"Nope. _Delicious_."

"Sebastian always made my bed for me, answered the door for my ladies, and shampooed my wine-stained carpet."

Sara pursed her lips. "Why was your carpet stained with wine?"

A flippant flick of crimson hair. "It was supposed to end up in my face. I always dodged at the last second."

" _Nice_."

Zelos had been smiling, but abruptly started to look uncomfortable. Like he'd begun to realize exactly what he'd just said. She had a feeling he didn't discuss this sort of thing on a whim. He shifted restlessly beneath his blanket and made a motion like he wanted to stand up.

What should she _do_? Sara wanted to give him comfort, somehow. It just seemed appropriate, after such a heavy, not-okay conversation. He didn't strike her as a hugger, though. In fact, Sara was reasonably positive that Tethe'alla's Chosen had rarely been given any sort of physical contact in a vein other than romantic interest or violence.

Yeah, he was totally about to just leave. Unsurprising, really. But _not_ how she was going to let this end.

Sara set down her glass and darted forward, rising onto her knees, and slid her hands into the thick crimson hair just above his ears and along his temples.

His breath caught. He stiffened uncomfortably as she swiftly pressed her lips against the surface of his white headband.

"Sorry about your asshole," Sara muttered.

His eyes flew open wide, then immediately slammed closed. Zelos snorted an unstoppable laugh. He took hold of her hands and, for several moments, held them against his head with solid insistence, like he craved them there, and didn't want them to leave.

"Yours, too," he said.

He abruptly started to encourage her arms away. So she pulled back and smiled at him. Sara stood up and ruffled his hair once, then walked away - to spare him the need to.

Zelos stared after her for a little while, absently taming his tousled hair. Eventually, he laid back down, on his side, facing away from the others.

Though their shared bottle was empty, he kind of wished for just a bit more whiskey. But he was still smiling a little, too, as he fell back asleep.

* * *

Ozette crawled out of the forest - a haphazard network of wooden treehouses reaching towards the dim, filtered sunlight. Presea led them steadily downward, away from the canopy and towards the leafy, root-infested floor. Her tiny feet traversed the uneven ground with practiced knowledge, and pushed open a wooden and cast-iron gate that creaked like a dying animal.

In the distance, a ramshackle log house came into view. Its roof was made of crude planks and tar, and kind of sloped dismally to one side. A few beams of errant sunlight graced the front lawn's expanse.

Two people stood on the porch. The first, a middle-aged man in a peculiar green and gold outfit and a pair of round black glasses, seemed intent on scolding the woman across from him. She had pale emerald hair that was haphazardly tied back in a wispy, wavy ponytail. Long bands of golden armor hovered around her neck and chest and draped gracefully down to her feet. And the dark fabric across her more than ample chest left little to the imagination.

Genis instantly recognized both of them. The man had been on the projector at Palmacosta's human ranch. The woman, at Asgard. For several moments, they both seemed too wrapped up in their conversation to notice their sudden guests.

"Regardless of your _misgivings,_ Rodyle," the woman was saying, "your experiments on the girl have yielded the best results of the Angelus Project yet since host body A012."

Lloyd's stomach churned. They were hidden around the corner, in a thicket of brush, but that didn't stop him from wanting to dart forward and teach that hideous half-naked woman-thing what to call his _mother-_

Genis held onto his sleeve. Lloyd frowned back at his best friend's deliberate head-shake, but stayed still.

"Lord Kvar always did take things too literally," the strange man was muttering, brushing his long, square chin with his thumb and forefinger. "One must think outside the box to produce results of any noticeable effect. With our spearheaded research team developing the mana cannon, I have had more than enough time to focus my efforts on the Project once more."

"What are they talking about?" Lloyd hissed quietly.

"A research team," Sheena mumbled, her eyes thinning. "And something about a mana cannon."

"They're _talking_?" Zelos blinked. His mouth curled into half a smile as he stared at the armored, full-bosomed woman. "Those jubblies must be making me deaf. I don't hear a thing."

"You _idiot-_ "

Presea suddenly didn't find it necessary to keep hiding. She slung her axe over one shoulder and continued forward, onto the open lawn. Genis wanted to shout after her and grab her wrist, but Raine held him back. He instead nibbled nervously at his fingernails, his indigo eyes wide as they peered through the branches.

"Ah, speak of the devil," Rodyle intoned with a grin. "Presea, do come here, my dear. Show Pronyma the fruits of Daddy Rodyle's labor."

There were a few rickety wooden stairs leading up to the porch that both Desians stood on. Presea climbed them evenly. She paused just before Rodyle, her eyes listless, opaque. She tilted her chin to better expose the Exsphere at the base of her neck.

"Do you see the color?" Rodyle's beady eyes were gleaming proudly. "Such a rich red. Like blood itself."

"When that pig Vharley handed over little miss pink, here," Pronyma began, with a sardonic twinge to one half of her full lips, "I doubt he knew what a treasure he was presenting you. Surely her Exsphere's time has come, wouldn't you agree?"

Rodyle tilted his head in several different directions like evaluating an item up for auction. "You may be right, for once in your miserable life. Years' worth of swinging that axe and caring for a corpse has most definitely hastened the Exsphere's growth." And Presea did not move or draw away whatsoever, even as Rodyle ran the blunt, fleshy tips of his fingers reverently along the Exsphere and the surrounding skin of her chest. "Perhaps it's time for us to part ways, my dear."

Sara felt her breath slam to a halt in her throat. She reached for Lloyd's wrist and gripped hard.

"He's gonna remove it, Lloyd," she murmured, half a snarl. "She's just a little girl. He's gonna turn her into that _thing-_ just like-"

"Those are likely two of the remaining Grand Cardinals," Raine whispered bitterly. "Attacking them would be suicide."

"Have you seen this process in person, Pronyma?" Rodyle asked, with a quirk of one thick, black eyebrow. "It's remarkable, really. Quite violent. But the strength it unleashes is astounding."

Pronyma wrinkled her small, pert nose. "I try to distance myself from all inferior pigs unless absolutely necessary, honestly." She seemed to hover over the ground as she backed up. Her feet never truly touched anything. "You've stoked my curiosity. Please, do continue."

"We can't just let them do this," Lloyd protested, wide-eyed, breaths quick. "Not again. Not another Marble. Not another Clara-"

"You've been most useful," Rodyle was muttering. Presea still had her head tilted upwards like an obedient dog. She blinked once, a slow, languid sweep of her eyelids, even as the Desian's fingers danced along her neck and grabbed hold of the gem embedded into her skin. "Goodbye, my little Presea-"

" _NO!_ "

Those fingers paused. Rodyle's head snapped up. Genis now stood out like a lone statue on an otherwise bereft lawn. He swung his kendama once, and Rodyle was just about to remark how cute the display was before lightning started to crackle above his head. He and Pronyma lunged out of the way just in time to avoid the brunt of the offense.

"Leave her alone!" the younger Sage shouted, his breaths heaving, his small shoulders squared. He heard a few footsteps behind him, and was immediately flanked by his sister, Lloyd, and the rest of their ever-expanding group.

Pronyma's eyes lit up as her gaze passed over them all and landed on Colette, just barely visible behind the brush they'd emerged from. "How _fortunate_ this day is turning out to be. Martel's vessel is within my grasp."

Rodyle chuckled and straightened his back. He leaned over to Pronyma, and pointed to all of them before his wandering finger settled on Sara. "And Pronyma, my dear. Correct me if I'm wrong, but is that not the fabled long-lost sister of the boy in red's mother?"

"Orange hair, dark skin, dragon's claws…" Pronyma was muttering thoughtfully. "Indeed, she does fit the description."

Raine, Sheena, Genis and finally Zelos all now directed their battle-ready, slightly stunned glares to both Lloyd and Sara.

"Sister?" Raine asked thinly. "What are they talking about, Lloyd? Sara?"

Lloyd opened his mouth to speak. Sara cut him short. "Uh, _another time,_ okay guys?" How these Desians knew about her was another matter entirely - one that honestly made her spine prickle with a lifetime of fear - but whatever. There were bigger problems at hand. Panic would have to wait.

"Let Presea _go_ ," Genis insisted, the ground beneath his feet beginning to churn and swirl with glowing symbols. "She's coming with us!"

"How adorable," Pronyma remarked. She raised one manicured hand purposefully towards them, and muttered: " _Dark Sphere."_

Genis didn't really know what happened. The already dim light seemed to vanish, and a great pressure seemed to build in front of him, along with a thrumming, low hum; he thought at the last second of how he should be preparing a counterattack, but before he could open his mouth to command a spell, that black pressure built and burst, sending him flying backwards until his shoulders and head cracked against the unforgiving trunk of a tree.

Genis tried to raise his head and only marginally succeeded. Everything was blurry and swaying, like he were looking underwater. He saw flashes of Lloyd's red, and bright light of his sister's magic. A sword gleamed occasionally, too - that had to be Zelos. There was an explosion, and a wave of heat, which he recognized as one of Sheena's many seals.

When Raine had finally managed to heal him enough, and Genis opened his eyes completely, Pronyma had one arm around Colette's shoulders, and the other held ready to cast another devastating spell. Rodyle's hand was gripping the back of Presea's neck; he was injured and bleeding from one flank, and heaving for breath, but he was poised to rip off her Exsphere at the slightest provocation.

"Give Colette back," Lloyd snarled, his left hand screaming, his blades twitching and ready. " _Now."_ He took a step forward.

"So demanding," Rodyle muttered, sneering through his grimace. "One move, and little Presea here becomes a beautiful monster."

Lloyd paused. Genis glanced frantically back and forth between Colette and Presea. Sheena looked entirely tense, her teeth gritted, her hands curled into fists.

"Who is this girl to you, anyway?" Pronyma gestured her head to Presea. "The Chosen, I can almost understand, since you inferior beings were raised to deify her. But Presea is merely a shell of a girl you've only just met."

"She's a victim of Cruxis," Lloyd ground out. "And we're not going to let you kill anyone else for your damn _stupid_ cause."

"One way or another, I need the fruits of the Angelus Project." Rodyle thinned his eyes at Lloyd. "Offer your Exsphere to me freely, pig, and I'll let this girl go."

Lloyd's breath caught. His eyes widened. He'd been holding his swords proudly before his chest, but they now drooped to his sides as his gaze shifted to his left hand.

"I… but that's-"

"Take me."

Lloyd's head snapped up. His jaw dropped as he watched Sara step forward and sheath her claws.

"Let Presea go," Sara continued, "and take me. I'm a better subject for your experiments anyway, right?"

Rodyle's eyes gleamed. "You have no idea."

"Sara, what-" Lloyd desperately gripped her arm. He shook his head in a frenzy. "No. No, you can't _do_ this-"

She wouldn't look at him. Her jaw was set and she stared obstinately ahead at Rodyle, who now let go of Presea and stepped around the girl, towards Sara.

"It seems you have your own prize today, Rodyle," Pronyma said silkily. A beam of light suddenly burst through the canopy and bathed both she and Colette in its glow. "I await you in Welgaia. I will inform Lord Yggdrasill of this when I present him with the Chosen." Her dark smile grew. "He will surely be… pleased."

She vanished, along with Colette, in a shower of green and white sparks.

"Well, now." Rodyle extended one gloved hand to Sara. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth creased deeply as he grinned. "Come, my dear. We have much to do."

Lloyd scrambled in front of her. He shoved his hands onto her shoulders, forcing her to a halt, as he tried desperately to meet her eyes. "S-stop. Please, Sara, don't do this." His own were beginning to sting and burn with frantic, biting tears. "You can't leave, not- not _now_ -"

The way they were standing, Lloyd's body blocked most of Rodyle's vision of her. Sara turned her gaze downward pointedly. So did Lloyd, just as the fingers of her left hand met her right wrist, where there was a faint, raised outline of a bracelet beneath her glove.

That communicator. The one the Renegades had given her. So many things had happened since the Tower of Salvation - Lloyd had forgotten completely about it. He swallowed his gasp.

The bracelet had one small button on the side, just behind her thumb.

She pushed it.

Then she met his watery eyes, smiled at him, and moved him out of the way.


	40. Deus (God)

Chapter Forty

 _Deus_

* * *

Yuan had been about to open a dusty, perfectly-aged bottle of merlot - he always _had_ preferred dry flavors (Martel used to say it matched his personality) - when his wrist started buzzing. He'd already been a little distracted in thought; the sudden sensation zapping across his skin made him lose his grip on the bottle, and it clanked to one side before tumbling over and rolling off the table. In a sway of his long black cape, he scrambled for it ineffectually and hissed a livid curse-

Noishe opened his mouth and caught the bottle easily. He'd been lying beneath the grand wooden table, relaxing, when Yuan's voice and frantic movements had made the creature's head perk up. Noishe's ears did now, too, as he stared expectantly up at Yuan.

"Give me that," the half-elf mumbled, before removing the bottle from Noishe's mouth. The creature simply continued to stare up at him and pant happily. His tail made the embroidered tablecloth swish back and forth.

"Sir," one of his soldiers was saying. He skidded to a halt as he entered Yuan's chambers and managed a fervent salute. "We have received a signal from your personal transponder."

"I am aware." Yuan set down his bottle. Then he frowned a little at the opener, as it sat unused beside his empty glass. So much for a relaxing afternoon. "Prepare my Rheiard."

"Only yours, sir?"

"Yes. Botta will contact the Irving boy and oversee operations until I return." He shrugged off his cape. Redid his ponytail. Cracked his neck. "I want two squadrons on standby. Await my orders."

"Yes, sir!"

Yuan paused halfway out the door. His eyes thinned at his charge, who was still saluting dutifully. "And prepare the carbonite cell. _Without_ the windows."

"Of course, sir!"

* * *

During one of the _thuds_ that Lloyd's fist had made against the tree trunk, Sheena was reasonably sure she'd heard a _crack_ too. Like bone splintering. Lloyd wasn't flinching, but she was, with each repeated impact. Raine had already tried talking to him; it had stalled his anger for a few seconds, but afterwards he'd gone right back to ignoring them all and unleashing his frustration on that silent, abused tree. Genis was staring at his best friend with wide, shocked eyes - like he'd never seen Lloyd act this way before. Zelos hadn't either, but that was to be expected; the Chosen kept looking the other way, frowning and absently inspecting his gloves.

"Lloyd," Sheena said gently. She was standing a few feet behind him, watching his twitching red shoulders, the furious curl of his hands. "I think that poor tree is sorry, yeah?"

"I'm _useless,"_ he croaked. His voice broke; something in Sheena's chest did, too. "I already lost Colette once, now _this,_ and n-now Sara-"

He cocked his fist back again. Sheena stepped forward and grabbed hold of his wrist.

"Breaking every bone in your hand isn't going to help get them back," she said sternly. He stopped pulling against her, and instead just let his wrist rest in her hand. She loosened her grip a little, into something tender and hopefully comforting. "You're not useless, either. You've gotten us all the way here, Lloyd."

"I…" He dropped his hand. Sheena let go, and instead opted to rest her own on his shoulder. There was really no time for blushing or awkwardness now. Comfort was priority number one.

There were a few tense moments where Lloyd didn't say anything. It was obvious that he _wanted_ to, but couldn't figure out which words he wanted to let fly first. Sheena squeezed his shoulder, and dared to let one thumb drift to the back of his tense neck. She wanted to put all of her fingers there, really, along the short chestnut hair at the base of his skull. But this would have to do. She watched as he hung his head and let his eyes close. And it might've been her wishful thinking, but he seemed, for the slightest of moments, to lean into her touch.

"She's right, you know," Zelos offered, with crossed arms and a lopsided smirk. "One of the reasons I decided to _observe_ you guys was because you were crazy enough to come all the way to Tethe'alla just to save your friend." He shrugged once. "I'm hard-pressed to believe you'll stop now."

"If we act quickly," Raine said evenly, "we can come up with a plan to aid the Renegades. Sara activated her transponder to them, correct?"

Sheena returned her hand to its spot beside her hip. Lloyd jerked his head up and widened his eyes. "You saw?"

"Rodyle didn't." Raine squared her shoulders confidently. "That is the important part."

There was a soft creak and the sound of a lock clicking closed. Presea. She'd been standing on the porch silently. And apparently had decided to finally enter, without one word or wayward glance to any of them.

For a sickening moment, Lloyd was truly mad at her, this puppet of a girl. For leading them here. For not helping (she'd just stood there watching their battle the whole time, listless, statuesque). His throat clogged with an insult he was glad had stuck there. He swallowed it down again like poison.

"We can't let them win," Lloyd ground out. He finally turned to face all of them. His cheeks were still flushed from exertion, and his hair a bit frazzled. But his eyes had finally cleared. "I promised Colette that I'd get her back to normal. And Sara and I promised each other that we would…"

He paused. Oh, right. Everyone was staring at him expectantly. He sighed. "We were going to tell you guys soon, but those Desians did it for us."

"I barely thought I'd heard that creepy guy right," Sheena said quietly. "She's your mom's sister? Really?"

"She told me a few days ago," Lloyd muttered. "She realized it when we went to my Dad's house before. It's… a long story. But it means that they're going to- those experiments-"

He looked utterly dejected. It made Sheena's gut tense. Lloyd was resilient and generally optimistic, but ever since she'd traveled with him to that ranch back in Sylvarant, where he'd learned his mother's fate, he had changed. Like part of his soul had been stolen. And it was reasonable to assume that, in some fashion, Sara had managed to ease that persistent ache.

Going from being alone to suddenly having family had probably meant the world to him. To both of them. And to have that taken away all over again-

"You can explain later," Raine was saying calmly. The tip of her staff glowed for a brief moment. "I'm sure you both had your reasons of keeping it secret. Right now, we need to focus on what our next step is."

Lloyd sucked in a breath. Held it, as the throbbing, cracked bones in his hand mended back together. Then nodded, as he exhaled. "Yeah. Yeah you're right. Thanks, Professor." His head lifted, and he met Sheena's eyes with a small smile. "Thank you too, Sheena."

She smiled too. "Yep. Welcome back."

"They mentioned some place called Welgaia," Genis said thoughtfully. "Do you think that's where Yggdrasill is?"

And from behind them all, like a cool, stormy cloud, came a familiar voice: "Welgaia is located at the top of the Tower of Salvation."

Lloyd's blades flew into his hands faster than he could think. " _Kratos-!"_

The seraph stood a few yards away, still and silent, his eyes just barely visible beneath his auburn bangs and the shadows of the canopy. He had one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The only acknowledgement he made of their attention was a slight straightening of his broad back.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Sheena spat, palming her seals.

"He likely orchestrated this abduction," Raine offered caustically. "Yggdrasill has probably kept tabs on our movements."

Zelos said nothing. He just narrowed his eyes and subtly readied to draw his blade.

Lloyd grit his teeth and uttered a growl that Sara would be proud of. The back of his left hand roared at him, blazing, burning. "You _traitor-"_

"Do you want to save the Chosen?" Kratos asked.

Lloyd kept glaring without speaking. Genis answered bitterly: "Are you stupid or something? Of course we do!"

"Then continue your task of finding Inhibitor Ore," Kratos went on. He gestured southeast. "Find a way into the Toize Mines and forge three Rune Crests. Presea will need one as well. Altessa knows the process."

"Three?" Raine repeated skeptically. "One for Presea, one for Colette. Who is the third for, then?"

Lloyd ignored him and furiously shook his head. "Why the hell should we listen to you?! You have Colette! You have Sara, your- your damn Angelus Project!" He readied his blades. "You're just here to _taunt_ us-"

His first attack was admittedly clumsy; Kratos merely had to slide out of the way, and Lloyd's momentum nearly landed him flat on his own face. The teen recovered quickly, his boots digging into the grass, fumbling for purchase. He struck forward once with his right blade; Kratos slammed it to one side, and what would've been Lloyd's next attack was now a last-second defensive parry. He heard someone shout his name, beckoning him to stop - Sheena, probably - but that cold, dead look in the seraph's eyes made Lloyd's heart smolder and his muscles crave movement.

"All of _this_ ," he snarled, in between _clang_ s and _tang_ s of sword against sword, "is _your_ fault! You _liar-"_

Those dark-blue fingerless gloves Kratos wore had raised golden points on each knuckle; Lloyd had never really thought about what they were for, until the seraph's fist cracked across his jaw and sent him sprawling backwards. He huffed and ran his tongue along his teeth to make sure they were all still there. Lloyd barely had the right of mind to throw out one sword for another last-ditch defense. The edge of Kratos' blade squealed against his own. And it was brief and probably totally Lloyd's imagination, but he thought for just a moment that something human, akin to regret, had appeared on Kratos' stoic face.

"Back down," the seraph muttered.

Lloyd instantly shot to his feet and attacked again, voraciously. "Yeah, right. Go to _hell-_ "

"I don't want to hurt you."

The furious grimace tumbled from Lloyd's face. He shoved his crossed blades forward and backed up. Kratos did not follow, and instead stood still, calm, as his sword lowered to his side.

No one else had heard that. Kratos' low voice had been meant only for him.

"It will take several days for Yggdrasill to prepare the Chosen for the transference ritual," Kratos announced. And to top everything off, he sheathed his sword. "With the proper equipment and skill, the Rune Crests should take less than twenty-four hours."

Kratos suddenly seemed distracted by something. Lloyd had just been about to shout another string of questions (and probably curses) when he noticed the seraph's gaze was now solely focused on a piece of sepia-toned paper that had apparently, in their skirmish, wormed its way out of Lloyd's pocket and ended up resting face-up and unfolded on the grass just at Kratos' feet.

Lloyd's stomach dropped. That was the letter. _His_ letter. The one Sara had written for him, that contained his mother's last words - and the one he hadn't been able to read yet, and gods be _damned_ if that stupid winged backstabbing _bastard_ was going to lay eyes on those holy words before him-

Kratos picked it up. His movements were oddly gentle, like he were handling an object of immense fragility. He immediately folded the letter closed, and made a point not to look at its contents. The air seemed to go still, until the sound of the paper scraping against Kratos' callused fingertips seemed to be the only echo in the forest.

He strode three steps forward, impossibly silent. He extended his hand towards Lloyd. Like they hadn't, mere seconds earlier, been trying to kill one another.

"Don't lose this," Kratos said quietly.

Lloyd swallowed hard. He was staring intently at the distant, ancient look on the seraph's face, even as he darted his hand forward and swiped the letter from Kratos' offered palm.

"I know that," Lloyd grumbled. Then, after a few seconds of thought: "Wait. Why do _you_ care?"

The question didn't matter to Kratos, clearly. Blue light now bounced off of the grey and green trees; Kratos unleashed his glassy wings, and tilted his sharp jaw towards the sky.

"Protect the Chosen." He met Lloyd's eyes with all the purpose of a bullet fired from a rifle. "The rest will follow." And Kratos vanished, in a cloud of swaying, gentle feathers.

Lloyd watched him go. And reluctantly sheathed his twin swords, a scowl pulling his mouth towards the ground. He purposefully eased the letter back into its rightful place in his pocket. He regretted every second he'd hesitated in reading it. It took all his self-control to not brandish it and devour its words right now, all audience be damned.

"We have to get to the mine," he said clearly.

Zelos scoffed a patronizing laugh. "You mean you're actually going to _listen_ to that guy? Isn't he the one who betrayed you and took Colette back in Sylvarant?"

"I don't trust him." Lloyd shot a glare back at Zelos over one stiff shoulder. "But it's not like we can just teleport to the top of the Tower of Salvation. Even if we did get Colette back, we still have to find a way to return her to normal."

"Then Mizuho is our next stop," Sheena affirmed. "To find Lezerano's owner."

Lloyd hadn't really removed his hand from his pocket. Beside the letter was the photo of Sara, and his mother. They both burned indelibly against his hip. He curled his fingers and held his breath.

"Lead the way, Sheena."

* * *

Rodyle smelled like pickles.

Sara didn't know why, really. And she truly hadn't been conscious enough for the majority of her trip up into the end of the world to make a judgment call on the matter. As soon as he'd vanished with her - using some sort of volatile Cruxis teleportation technology that had stopped just short of making her vomit all over his shiny shoes - he'd stuck a needle into the side of her neck, before she could stop him. And then everything had gone warm, fuzzy and dark.

She awoke in a small metal box. The first thing she noticed, and that helped quell her boiling panic, was that all of her clothes were still on and she didn't hurt anywhere _unpleasant_. But her arms and legs were noodles; her eyelids sheets of bedrock. The air tasted sterile and heavy. Rodyle was still with her; they were alone, and he was carefully surveying an array of lights and buttons on the far wall of their shared box.

He looked nervous. Sara's vision was still pretty unreliable and hazy, but she could've sworn he was sweating.

Her hands were fastened behind her back. She was resting on her left hip and her head was propped up against one wall, along with her left shoulder. She tested her tongue, keeping her throat silent. It felt like a sack of lead, but moved nonetheless. She tried to smirk next. Yep, that worked too. And that was important. Her throat worked for several seconds before her deadened mouth decided to form words:

"Hey, fuckhead."

Rodyle immediately turned to face her. His bushy black eyebrows shot skyward, as did the edges of his wrinkled grin. He laughed; it sounded melodic and downright maniacal, and to Sara's pounding head, like nails scraping down an endless chalkboard.

"Impeccable timing, as always," the Desian quipped. "We are almost to my Lord's chambers. I was slightly worried I had overestimated your dose of the sedative; however, you seem particularly resistant."

"Tolerance," Sara mumbled. She tugged at the bonds biting into her bound wrists. They were tight, unforgiving. "You gonna let me meet your Lord like this? I can't feel my face."

"We are not there yet," Rodyle sneered. "In the few more minutes it takes to reach Lord Yggdrasill's chambers, you will be fully alert once more."

"Say it one more time," Sara managed. "What's his name? Your Lord guy?"

Rodyle frowned. "Yggdrasill. The leader of all half-elves. The bringer of our salvation-"

"Yagdarsing?"

The frown deepened. "You dare disrespect Lord Yggdrasill's name-"

"Yigdorsmell?"

"You are _mocking_ him-"

"Hey, you're the one who shot me full of this shit." She managed to get to her knees. "Not my fault I can't talk right, Ricardo."

" _Rodyle,"_ he corrected indignantly. He leaned closer to her. _Pickles,_ again. And his gloved hand gripped her cheeks and made her lips purse like a fish. "In time, you will respect our names, wretched pig."

"Doubt it." Though it sounded more like ' _Doot aht.'_ He got the message, though.

He shoved her away firmly. Her head smacked against the wall. She hissed a curse.

"You'll hold your forked tongue if you know what's good for you," Rodyle seethed.

The way her hands were bound, she couldn't use her palms in an attempt to melt her restraints. It probably didn't matter anyway; they'd likely used some sort of material that wouldn't budge under extreme temperatures. Rodyle went back to whatever he'd been doing before and thankfully ignored her. Being under his stare felt like bathing in worms.

Sara's head swam as she tried to stand. The sedative was indeed wearing off as he'd said, but something else just didn't feel right. She felt cold. And a strange sense of weak, and _alone._ It didn't feel entirely unfamiliar, but unpleasant, and pretty unnerving-

Her gauntlets and claws were gone. A few of her fingertips just managed to brush against the back of her opposing hand. Sara's eyes flew open wide. She felt the metallic surface of her Key Crest, and the way it sat lightly against her skin. But the middle of the Crest, where her Exsphere usually rested, was empty.

"Where are-" Breathing started to hurt. Her heartbeat quickened, squelching and thrumming deafeningly in her ears. "What did you do with them?"

Rodyle quirked one eyebrow back at her. "What was that, my dear?"

"Tarja," she choked. Panic had begun to tighten her throat. Her chest heaved. Her gaze darted around the metal box frantically. "Ko. My dragons. Where are they?"

"Oh, you mean your Exspheres?" He grinned again. Sara wanted to remove it from his face. With her teeth. "It would be remiss of me to present you to Lord Yggdrasill before removing them, wouldn't you agree?"

" _Where are they?"_

"Ah, don't worry. Lord Kratos has them locked away." Their metal box shuddered; it had apparently been moving, because it now came to a stop. "Not that you'll need them anymore. You'll be getting your own, _very special_ Exsphere soon enough." A _ding_ sounded. The door to the box began to slide open. "Now, on your feet. And _do_ try to look presentable. You are a fortunate pig, indeed, to meet three of the Four Seraphim."

He'd started to grab her elbow and help her stand; she lurched away, and even though it meant her back slamming into the wall, it was worth it. Sara's feet settled solidly beneath her, finally. She started to smile a little, her terror easing; if Kratos had her Exspheres, she would see them again. She'd feel their warmth again, their strength.

Rodyle exited the box. Sara stepped after him. Her stride was a bit clumsy still; she rolled her head back and forth to work out some of the kinks in her neck, and twisted her hips from side to side, and-

Stopped dead.

This room was long, cavernous. As elegant as it was antiseptic. Bright, white marble pillars, wine-red rugs, golden chandeleirs and intricate sconces dotting the endless walls.

At the end of it sat a gleaming silver throne, made of proud, straight lines and rigid angles. A man was reclined in it comfortably, with his lithe legs prudently crossed, and his flawless, hip-length flaxen hair draped neatly over one broad shoulder. His cloud-hued outfit was as pearlescent as the floor beneath his feet. And at the sight of her, though he was several meters away, Sara could _feel_ his emerald stare, and hear his skin shift as one edge of his stately lips pricked in a mordant smile.

Kratos stood on the man's right side, an inflexible wall of blue, gold and burgundy. He made the briefest of eye contact with her before returning his gaze sharply, dutifully ahead, like the most loyal and obedient of soldiers.

Yuan was on his left. And it was _him_ that Sara couldn't stop looking at. Because he was _here_ , and he wasn't fighting to free her as Rodyle shoved her forward. Instead, Yuan was quiet and motionless: an opposing, blue and black statue to Kratos. Like he belonged here. The only acknowledgement he made of her existence was a fierce narrowing of his turquoise eyes when she started to open her mouth.

No talking. Okay. Her jaw slammed shut. Message received.

There was literally _no_ noise in this room. Nothing coming from outside, or above, or below. The air wasn't moving, either. Time itself seemed not to exist here. Sara felt unbelievably small - a tiny speck of dust flailing uselessly in the air. This was only exacerbated when the man in white stood from his throne in one sinuous, graceful movement. His feet hovered a few inches off of the floor. And in the center of his bare chest was a luminous verdant crystal that glinted every which way as he crossed the room towards her with slow, unsettling deliberation.

He stopped just before her. His smooth, pointed chin hovered at least six inches over her head. His chest didn't move; he wasn't breathing. Sara doubted he had a pulse at all. His eyes were like glass, an endless, otherworldly viridian that shouldn't exist, that felt older than the moon and stars.

"What have you seen?" Yggdrasill asked softly. His voice was sharp and clear, serene, like the purest diamond.

Sara blinked. Typical of the leader of Cruxis to be vague and mysterious. That seemed to be a requirement to join their ranks. "What do you mean?"

He leaned back a little. His smile had disappeared momentarily, but it now came back - calm, easy. Smug. "I created this world. All you have ever known is because I have let you exist, _human_." He spat the last word, like it were bitter on his tongue. "Yet you have seen what lies beneath. The realm I cannot reach. The darkness that has existed before time was time."

Is that what he thought of her curse? Those shadows in her head? How interesting. It sounded like he found them… _valuable_. Sara smiled back. "You kind of answered your own question, didn't you?"

He'd been drifting idly to one side. He paused abruptly. "You dare to disrespect a god?"

Yggdrasill was still facing her, so he couldn't see either Kratos or Yuan, who remained standing on either side of that throne. This was fortunate. Because Kratos immediately snapped his head towards her, his expression dark and tense, and stopped just short of taking a step forward. Yuan noticed this too, but only indicated as such with a quick, emotionless glance.

"A _god_ ," Sara echoed skeptically. She squared her shoulders and inclined her chin. "Is that what you are? A god that enslaves and kills innocent people for your own amusement?"

"Innocent?" The seraph was suddenly in right in front of her, face to face, his ancient eyes piercing, deadly. "Do you think you are _innocent_ , human?"

" _Me_?" Sara laughed. But his gaze was full of a dry, withered madness that made her stomach turn. She forced herself to not look away. "Hell no. I'm the _worst_."

Her head bowed. Her bonds snapped. Sara held her hands out to her sides, palm-up, fingers flexed. "You want a taste of my world? You want to see your precious darkness?"

The smile that crawled across Yggdrasill's face could've curdled milk.

"Show me," he whispered.


	41. Optimum (Best)

Chapter Forty-One

 _Optimum_

* * *

 _And I can't be for you all of the things you want me to  
_ _But I will love you constantly;  
_ _There's precious little else to me_

* * *

The world fell away.

Sara beckoned the voices, let them slither and crawl through her head, down her spine, under her skin. Pressure built on her shoulders, a prickling warmth - until wings arose, breathing smoke and ash, raining shadows. Spines bloomed from her back. Fangs punched out over her lower lip as she lifted her head and, at last, opened her ebony eyes.

"Extraordinary," Yggdrasill was murmuring. He looked down at his fingertips for a moment as they rubbed together, as if testing the fabric of the air. "What is your name?"

" _We are one_."

For just a moment, he looked genuinely addled, genuinely curious. He studied the void yawning beneath her feet with a pointed intensity. "Whom do you serve?"

" _My Mistress has many names."_ Her spines shivered. " _None of which your tongue deserves to taste, mortal."_

"Mortal?" Yggdrasill smirked. He brandished his own wings; sprawling, glorious glassy feathers of every imaginable bright and polished hue. "Know you not your god?"

" _You are no god."_ Her wings flared. She snarled, brimstone hissing between her clenched teeth. " _You have no power here."_

"In time, I shall. Your use to me has only just begun." He extended one hand towards her, palm-out. "Origin, if you please. Let's test this wretch's statement. Are they truly one?"

Sara's body went rigid as if whipped. Her shadows flickered. Something had stilled her muscles, wired her jaw shut. Her demons' talons scraped frantically at the inside of her head, fighting for purchase, cawing for help.

"Ah," Yggdrasill huffed triumphantly, "there _are_ cracks in your armor. Minute as they are, and nearly insignificant. _Nearly._ "

She stepped forward. The room shook. It made ethereal black sparks waft upwards from the floor beneath her boots. " _Silence!"_

"The demons in your wretched body are beyond Origin's reach, yes. Niflheim was not part of our pact, for it has its own ruler: your aforementioned _Mistress_." His hand turned, palm up. Sara crashed to her knees, clutching her chest, gasping.

"But, it seems," Yggdrasill concluded with a victorious grin, "your mortal flesh… is still _yours."_

This had never happened before. Not now. Not after she'd learned so much. The leader of Cruxis seemed to be grabbing hold of her very heart, crushing it, suffocating it between his unseen fingers.

Sara didn't have her Exspheres. She didn't have her claws, or her gauntlets. She sure as shit didn't have Kratos, who merely watched this whole exchange with a sort of terrifying detachment. And now she didn't have her demons, either - the shadows that had once plagued her, but had now become her closest ally.

In this soulless vapid chamber among the stars, and _way_ in over her head, as usual - Sara now had only her inner stubborn bitch.

And it roared as loud and obnoxiously as any dragon or citizen of Niflheim.

She got to her feet. She couldn't breathe, but it didn't matter. Her muscles still worked. They'd been trained by dragons, through every swipe of claws, every breath of fire. Her soul had been forged by Anna, steeled by relentless kindness, polished and gilded by bedtime stories and goodnight kisses.

Sara's hands curled into fists, and she grinned up at that picturesque blonde seraph as each of her middle fingers poked into the air.

"So defiant," Yggdrasill sighed, like he were bored to death. He released whatever invisible grip he'd had on her. "I suppose I should expect nothing less from the sole sibling of the slut who turned Kratos against me."

Sara cocked one fist back before her better sense could tell her not to. "I'll rip out your _tongue_ -"

He caught it instantly. "Ah ha. You _are_ much more hotheaded than her, aren't you?"

His fingers tightened imperceptibly. All the bones in Sara's curled hand shattered. She screamed; he simply smirked. "This is so entertaining. Next, I half-expect to learn that Kratos has bedded _you_ , as well."

Those words distracted her from the hot oven of pain that had become her utterly useless right hand. She fought off the near-overwhelming urge to meet Kratos' eyes.

"What an… _interesting_ turn of events that would be," Yggdrasill mused, "eh, Kratos?"

And Kratos spoke coldly, succinctly, without any hesitation whatsoever: "A servant of Niflheim deserves no place in our world. My Lord would do well to dispose of her once she has exhausted her usefulness."

"Oh, yes." Yggdrasill dismissively flicked his long fingers towards his charge. "I'd forgotten the depth of your pious distaste for demonic vessels, old friend. Even after all these years, Tethe'alla's religious practices hold true for you. Old habits die hard, do they not?"

Kratos set his jaw. "Indeed, my Lord."

"A fortunate turn of events for you, Kratos, that Niflheim has removed your temptation for you. Double-crossing me twice would be most… disappointing."

Yggdrasill slowly, evenly grabbed hold ot Sara's chin with a few frigid fingers. She stilled. She couldn't even breathe; all she could do was stare up at him and pray to whatever gods that were listening that he didn't decide to create a repeat mosaic of the bones in her hand with her skull.

After the longest few seconds of her life: he let go. He was still smiling.

"I shall give you the honor, Kratos, of beheading them both when I am through with them."

And he immediately doubled over in a deep, reverent bow. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Now." Yggdrasill held out one expectant hand. "The stone, please."

Kratos slid one hand into an unseen pocket on his hip as he walked purposefully forward. When he drew it back, a small, violet-colored Exsphere was resting in his palm.

"Wh-what is-" Sara swallowed the bile boiling in her throat. The air sailed from her lungs. She started to try and stand up. "You're not really going to-"

"Yuan," Yggdrasill interrupted, "replace the bonds at her wrists."

The blue-haired half-elf walked forward now, too, brandishing another, much more hefty pair of magitechnology handcuffs. Sara glanced at him frantically, her chest heaving. "No. Yuan, this- this isn't supposed to-"

" _Silence,_ inferior pig," Yuan spat. He jerked her arms together behind her back, broken hand be damned, and clamped the cuffs onto her wrists. She hissed a halfhearted curse of pain.

"The shadows collect heaviest along her back," Yggdrasill announced. "Place it there, Kratos. Right at the base of her neck."

"No, wait-" She watched Kratos approach, still holding the Exsphere. His eyes were hidden in his bangs. Sara's heart thudded uncontrollably against her sternum. Things were _not_ supposed to be like this. Kratos, and Yuan they- they were supposed to _stop_ this from happening, but-

Had it all been a lie?

"Don't," she heard herself say, over scraping, shallow breaths. She shut her eyes tightly, then opened them again, because this _had_ to be just another one of her nightmares. "Please, _don't-_ "

Sara felt her shirt rip open from the collar down, exposing the bare expanse her back. Felt a familiar hand brush gently, almost imperceptably, against the skin between her shoulders - that had to be on accident, right? Or a sickening tease-

Then it turned over, and its palm pressed the Exsphere firmly into her flesh.

And there were several seconds where Sara had thought she'd died instantly, because she saw a countless things that weren't hers - _memories_ that had no place in her head, that spanned for _far_ too many years.

Four-thousand of them.

Of war, and bloodied battlefields and gleaming swords, and a castle made of grey and white stone.

A young, soft-faced woman with seafoam green hair and even greener eyes, and her younger brother, who used to laugh all the time, and chase birds through fields of wheat that matched his gleaming gold hair-

"Precisely," someone was saying. It was that smooth, cool voice that made her stomach churn. It was Yggdrasill, and it was what remained of Mithos, that little boy who had once smiled so much.

Sara fell forward onto all fours. She remembered the floor being nice and cool and slick beneath her fingers, and she could just barely make out her own reflection before she slumped all the way down. Her eyes just barely stayed open.

"Take her to the medical holding cell," Yggdrasill ordered. "Kratos - it is your duty to assure she doesn't die in there. I need her alive." Her hand notwithstanding, apparently.

Sara tried to look up. Her head refused to budge but for the slightest of degrees. It was enough to see the edge of Kratos' jaw, and a glint of his eye just barely visible from beneath his bangs as he asked: "How long do you plan to keep her here, my Lord?"

"Not long. She has work to do."

Kratos looked down at her, finally. He is face was fixed in a frigid, stony glare.

And the sharp lines of his tense jaw were the last thing she saw before everything went dark.

* * *

"You're an idiot," Yuan had told him immediately.

The door to the holding cell hissed closed behind Kratos' back. He frowned at Yuan, sighed, and crossed his arms.  
"You're damn lucky that Mithos was distracted and in a good mood," Yuan continued bitingly. "That look on your face hid nothing."

"Why are you here?" _Here_ was Welgaia's medical chambers; a small floor on the lower levels, far from prying eyes. Even farther from Yggdrasill himself, which was the most important part. "Shouldn't you be in the room of the Great Seed, with the Chosen?"

"I am waiting for reinforcements," Yuan spat, tilting his chin defiantly. Gods, this man's ability to infuriate him had not waned _whatsoever_ in four millennia. "There should be minimal resistance, but I chose to err on the side of caution."

"Or you're simply bringing unwanted attention to yourself," Kratos said flatly. Then shrugged. "Your choice, I suppose."

"I am not leaving here without the Chosen," Yuan vowed through gritted teeth. "I am not stupid enough to take on Mithos in battle, but with a little bit of subtlety and properly-timed force, I will escape with her before he even knows I was there."

Kratos sighed again. Because of course he did. "I fail to understand why you are telling me any of this. If you are seeking to reinforce your own beliefs, I ask you not to speak your words of self-reassurance aloud, please. Or at the very least - not to me."

"Isn't your son in love with the Chosen girl? Doesn't that matter to you?" Yuan sneered. His eyes flicked to the door behind Kratos. "Gods know you're willing to do just about everything _else_ for him."

"Sara would do anything for him. She will survive this." And Yuan kind of had to admire the way Kratos squared his shoulders here. That sense of pride couldn't be faked. It had been fifteen years since Kratos had worn anything close to it.

Yuan was honestly a little speechless.

But that wore off quickly: "Oh, spare me your inane platitudes. You've got tits in your eyes again, Kratos."

"Do you want to take the Chosen or not?" Kratos scowled. "Your insults bore me."

"...Are you implying you'll help me escape with her?"

"No. I will, however, ignore you while you do so."

Yuan snorted a laugh.

" _What_?" Kratos barked.

"The irony may be lost on you, but not me:" Yuan turned away, brushing his long ponytail flippantly over one shoulder. "You'll only ever change for a woman, Kratos."

"...Tell me again why you are here, Yuan."

Despite his best efforts, Yuan's next step faltered. "Well, I-" He sent a glare back at Kratos. Mistake. The man was smirking at him. "I am trying to-"

"Yes?"

"Oh, just _shut up_." And Yuan growled under his breath, as he rounded the corner towards the teleporter:

"...Idiot."

* * *

Kratos had waited for a lot of things in his life.

The the first, and arguably important thing that came to mind was something he had waited eight months, twenty-four days, thirteen hours, seven minutes, and thirty-six seconds for (but who was counting?). Something he hadn't ever wanted, found extremely intimidating, and furthermore had no idea how he would handle whatsoever -

His son.

 _Are you alright?_ Gods, he'd asked Anna that question so many times, he was surprised she hadn't murdered him; her normally even temper had waxed rather volatile due to Lloyd's influence. Not that she had to _try_ to murder him, really; Kratos honestly would've cut off his own head if Anna had wished it of him. What was the phrase Yuan used to use? _Whipped?_ Yeah, that was it. Kratos had been utterly _whipped._

Against all odds, her pregnancy had been thankfully devoid of drama - that which Kratos himself caused notwithstanding. _Do you need anything? Are you cold? Eat more of this, it will give you strength. Get more sleep. No, eleven hours is not too much- Here's an extra blanket just in case-_

She'd called him a nag. Fitting. Then she'd come out of their bathroom clutching her rounded stomach, eyes wide, jaw dropped, dress soaked - and he'd carried her to Flanoir's doctor at quite nearly the speed of light. After that, all she did was thank him, grit her teeth, and squeeze his hand with all her might.

That memory used to hurt. Kratos had kept it locked tightly away, in some dusty corner of his labyrinthine brain. Because for far too long, remembering her chaotic chestnut hair, the grip of her tiny fingers between his, and her brilliant, time-stopping smile when she'd first held their child-

All of it had been coated in her blood. Deafened by that sound he would never forget, that drowned out Lloyd's first cries, of his sword as it sliced cleanly through what had once been her flawless heart.

Not anymore.

Funny how being forgiven had let him forgive himself.

Kratos started to smile a little. It looked rather out of place in this cold, dim room. Welgaia's medical chambers were not exactly a welcoming environment - this place in particular, which served as much as a holding cell as it did a place for treatment or rehabilitation. As such - it meant no outsiders could peek in or infiltrate whatsoever. Not even Yggdrasill, without Kratos' knowledge. Mana had a variety of real-world uses, not the least of which allowed for detection of prying eyes.

Nearly two decades later, Kratos was waiting again. The hand now in his wasn't Anna's. It wasn't gripping or grabbing onto him, either. It was limp. Its fingers were rough from almost two decades of leather and dragonscales. And the only thing he was waiting for, now, was for it to move again.

Kratos had healed her hand instantly, as soon as hey were alone. Yggdrasill's lackeys had strapped Sara's wrists and ankles to the table, too; who knew what would happen when she finally woke up? _Yes, my Lord. A wise decision. I will oversee this situation; you have better things to attend to._ One of those had not been a lie. And the first thing Kratos had done, when that door had closed, was remove all of her restraints.

He'd seen all of her. Every dark inch, every fiery spark; Kratos feared none of it. Sara was splayed prone on the table before him; that gleaming, thrumming gem staring up at him dauntlessly from between her shoulders, where neck met back. Her head was turned to one side. Her face was sort of smooshed against the table, making her lips purse and her cheek bunch. In the right setting it would've been sort of amusing. Currently, it just made him mutter her name through a bone-dry throat.

She stirred, just a little - a slight twitch of her arms. Her closed eyes shifted. And he held his breath as they finally began to pull open.

"You're safe, Sara," Kratos said pointedly. He squeezed her now-healed hand. "Breathe for me. I am here."

Her breath choked, contrarily. Her eyes snapped open. She was lying at a strange angle; she couldn't look exactly at his face, but she tried to. And what she saw was enough to make her lurch away from him, off of the table completely, where her hip and ribs cracked against the unforgiving floor.

Kratos approached her cautiously. It didn't show outwardly at all, but his heart was in his throat. His stomach churned like a whirlpool.

He deserved her wary glare. The way she was scooting towards the room's far corner like he were poison.

"Kratos-" Her arms collapsed. She slammed to the floor as if someone had shoved her down. And slowly, shakily, one of her hands snaked over her collarbone, then her shoulder, and finally to her back, where she gingerly touched her new Exsphere.

"Wh-why did you do this?" Her breaths scraped audibly in and out of her heaving chest. "Oh, gods, it's just like she said. They got me, they _got me-_ "

"Please, Sara. It's alright."

It wasn't. Not at all. Kratos tried to act like it was, because he had to. She was floundering, drowning in her own head, and he had to be her lifeline. Like she'd done so many times for him.

Kratos carefully sank to one knee in front of her. He reached out one hand. But she shrunk back, mortified, fumbling for purchase on the slick tile.

His heart clenched. "Sara, you must listen to me-"

"Sissy told me to never let them do this," Sara panted. Her eyes. Gods, her _eyes_. They were lost, haunted in ways no demon could ever touch - darkened only by years of mortal, earthly fear. "Sh-she always just wanted me to be s-safe, but now they-" Her breath shuddered. She splayed her fingers desperately against the floor. "Kratos, oh, gods, it _hurts-"_

"The pain will ease soon."

" _Liar_ ," she choked furiously. "You just wanted to get me here. To take me and use me like the rest of them. Like _her-_ "

Kratos set his jaw. He moved forward and shoved his arm beneath hers, fear and jittery muttering be damned. "On your feet. _Now_."

"Oh, shit." Sara instantly collapsed against him. She was trembling unstoppably. The Exsphere, upon first implantation, felt heavy as an anvil, and left its wearer with only shreds of strength.

Kratos knew this.

"I can't walk," she rasped. "I can't even _stand_."

"You must." Her proud, strong body was a sack of lead against his arm. Kratos held her up regardless. "You _can_."

"My legs are _useless-_ "

"Lloyd is forging a Crest for you as we speak." He slung his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "This suffering is temporary. Right now, you must keep moving and rebuild your strength. The first few hours are critical to your survival."

They lurched forward together, a haphazard mess of legs and arms. Sara threw out her hands and planted them against the wall, gasping. And she turned her head back slowly, to stare at Kratos, as she whispered:

"I know who you are."

Kratos didn't move. She pinned him still with her haunted gaze.

"All of you," Sara continued, in a rigid, arid growl. "Yuan. Mithos. Martel. _You_. I know who you are. Wh-when you put this thing on me - I don't know how, or why, but I saw _everything_."

She collapsed again. Kratos corrected this immediately. " _Up_ , Sara."

"I know you hated your father," she ground out. Kratos made her walk. Her steps were hesitant, anguished as she shuddered against him. But her arm was around his neck.

"That he was a giant dick," she went on. "That you never wanted to be good with a sword."

Kratos' jaw was pressed against her tepid temple. He nodded. "I still don't."

"That Yuan was the first real friend you'd ever had," Sara continued, "even though he hated you."

"He still does."

They passed the table she'd awoken from. Sara threw out one hand to brace against it. Kratos snatched it away.

"That-" Sara sagged against him in a quivering, sweaty puddle. "That you helped him save a half-elf city from burning down, though you were ordered not to. That you lived for Mithos. That those humans killed-" Sara's unsteady hands flew to her dry, chapped mouth. "Oh, gods, _Martel-_ "

"Walk, Sara," Kratos commanded. " _Now_."

"Mithos, he…" Her sobs heaved against his shoulder. Kratos led her forward anyway, even as her voice croaked into the still air. "He was _your_ Mithos. Oh, gods. He just wanted shit to be okay. He wanted so much good. The Kharlan War… It turned him into _this_." Sara's knees buckled. "And Yuan - all this time, he loved her so much. _Martel_. He just wanted to let her soul rest, to-"

" _Focus_."

"Everything is _bullshit._ " Sara's arms snaked beneath his. He felt her fingertips bite into the back of his shoulders. "What did she die for, Kratos?"

Martel? Anna? "Who?"

"Either of them," Sara answered, like she'd heard his thoughts. She shoved her forehead into his shoulder and took in a broken, shuddering inhale. " _Both_ of them. They died for the same thing, and fuck-all has changed. Tell me why I shouldn't just let this thing eat me. Why should I care anymore?"

For several moments, Kratos had no idea what to say.

He'd asked himself that same question a billion times. It had defined his purpose, honestly. Echoed relentlessly in his head, and made him doubt his entire existence.

So - he just held her. Listened to her vital, unsteady, beautiful breaths. Closed his eyes. And tried to remember the citrus spice scent of her hair. Right now it was dry and lifeless as straw.

"Martel knew what she wanted," he settled for. Kratos pressed his lips against Sara's dewy forehead and held them there. "Anna wanted the same. A world where all life was respected. Human. Elf. Half-elf. No matter what."

"I know that," Sara spat. "What the _fuck_ have you done for their cause?"

"Nothing," he replied.

He wanted to draw away. But he held her closer, instead.

"I have done nothing," Kratos repeated. Raw, humble - determined. "But I am going to change that."

"L-like this?" She shook her head against his collarbone. "By d-doing _this_ to me?"

He let go of her and backed up. And watched quietly as she unwillingly returned to her knees, struggling against the weight on her back.

"It's for Lloyd," Kratos said softly.

Her eyes flew up to his.

"That Exsphere," he continued. "To defeat Mithos - Lloyd is going to need it."

She fought to breathe. He could see her ribs strain beneath the sack that served as her shirt; the way her fingers clawed at the floor.

"Then leave it there," Sara told him, in a steadfast growl. "As long as it takes."

Kratos nodded. His chest swelled with warm pride and adoration. He held out one hand - but he made a point not to help her stand this time.

"On your feet. Walk to me, my love."

He hadn't called her that in so long. Since before either of them knew the truth. He'd longed for a time when he would get to do so again.

This wasn't exactly the _ideal_ circumstance -but it would have to do.

"Four-thousand years, Kratos." Sara furiously shook her head. " _Four-thousand-_ "

"Four steps, Sara." His offered fingers extended, stretched towards her. "That is all I ask of you."

She grit her teeth. She snarled like a stubborn wolf and stepped forward somehow. His heart stumbled.

"How are you still sane?" Sara asked.

"I am not," Kratos answered.

She barked a laugh. Another step. She angrily swiped sweat from her pallid brow. "Why didn't you stop Mithos?"

"I loved him."

One more. She was nearly to his hand, but he didn't budge an inch. "Can Lloyd really defeat him?"

"Yes."

Even when she collapsed into his arms, it was of her own volition. She grabbed hold of the belts along his back, and panted against his chest: "Am I going to live through this?"

Kratos eased one hand onto the back of her neck and smiled into her hair.

"Without a doubt."

* * *

The next morning, he brought her a tray laden with what he knew from experience were her favorite breakfast foods.

"Damn," she muttered. She sat hunched at the table in the center of her cell, her jaw propped up on one fist. "Who cooks for you guys? This is some impressive shit. Surprising, considering none of you need to eat."

"'Need' is the operative word," Kratos sighed. "There are a few of us, like myself, who have chosen to retain our earthly requirements."

Sara idly poked at a loaded omelette with her fork. She glanced at him curiously. "Yiggy probably doesn't like that."

"He is unaware. As long as he gets his way, he cares little about our day-to-day activities."

"Clearly," she smirked.

Kratos urged the tray closer. "Eat."

She frowned. As if on cue, her stomach released a perturbed growl. "I don't have much of an appetite. Just the smell is honestly making me kind of nauseous."

He started to cut up the omelette with precise, systematic movements. "You must try, Sara."

Though her back ached and she felt like puking, his awkward, militant version of concern made her smile. "Are you gonna feed it to me, too?"

That was supposed to be a joke. His gaze raised to hers, as did the laden fork. She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to tell him to stop - but he instantly eased the bite past her parted lips before she could. She scowled, but managed to chew and swallow it.

"Needs salt," she grumbled.

Kratos immediately stood up and turned towards the door. "I will have a dispenser sent up-"

"Stop, Kratos," she said, and grinned sheepishly when he looked back at her. "I-I was just being an ass. Don't worry about it."

Hesitantly, he sat down across from her once more. He made a motion to pick up the fork again, but she did it on her own before he could.

"You're going to make me eat all of this, aren't you?"

He nodded sternly. "You must keep up your strength."

Well, she might as well get it over with. Sara sighed and opted for a bite of fruit next. "How much longer do I have to stay here?"

"A few days. A week, at most. Yggdrasill wants to be sure of your health before he releases you back to the surface."

"Why is he going to release me?"

"In this environment, it is impossible for an Exsphere to grow well. There is too much magitechnology present. It affects the flow of mana."

"I guess that explains why the ranches were so run-down and gross."

He dropped his gaze to his fingers as they idly traced invisible lines on the tabletop. "Yes. The idea was to intentionally promote suffering and fear."

She felt sick again, but for an entirely different reason. She rolled a few blueberries back and forth across her plate. "You didn't agree with it? The ranches?"

"Never. The so-called Age of Lifeless Beings is why I turned on Yggdrasill in the first place."

"You worked at one, though." She swallowed another bite of egg, then polished it off with a sip of orange juice. "You worked at her ranch."

 _Her._ That pronoun needed no explanation when spoken between them.

"Because I wanted to get her out," he admitted. "It was the only way."

Sara was quiet for a few seconds before asking gently: "Why her?"

"She was never afraid." Kratos had been frowning for most of his time here; it now eased into something resembling a tiny smile. "She wanted only to help the other prisoners. She gave away her water, what little food she was allowed. Even in the face of such suffering, she was selfless."

Sara blinked away tears and cleared her suddenly full throat. "Sounds like her, alright."

They both sat silently for a little while - Kratos still staring at his hands, Sara making halfhearted attempts to stab into an elusive grape with her fork. Its scraping and clanking against the glasswear seemed to echo explosively in this dense, still room.

"I can get you some coffee, too," he said at last, "if you'd like."

She smirked and breathed a laugh. "Let's see how this goes down first." Finally, a committal mouthful of egg and some sort of sausage.

It didn't taste like much. She wasn't sure if it was the food itself or the parasite eating into her back causing this. Probably a bit of both. Without taste, the texture of the combined items felt strangely mushy and lumpy.

Her face tensed. Her stomach shouted all kinds of unpleasantries as it flopped around in protest. She leaned over and picked up a small metal trash can beside the table, intent on spitting out the half-chewed food.

That was not all that came up, unfortunately.

She saw Kratos stand, and felt his hand smooth along her retching back when she managed to choke down a breath of air.

"H-hold off on the coffee," Sara announced.

She was having a bit of trouble keeping hold of the trash can. Her hands trembled. Kratos noticed, and immediately held it for her instead.

"Perhaps tomorrow," he suggested.

* * *

Tomorrow was indeed better.

She didn't look quite so hunched today. She kept down all her food, too. At her request, Kratos had brought her a collection of books. (" _Giant_ books," she'd said. "Big _heavy_ ones.")

Kratos walked in on her holding one over her head with both hands and performing a set of squats.

"You're not going to read them?" he'd asked. Her last squat made her legs give out; he caught her and helped her to her feet.

"When have you ever seen me crack open a book?" she asked with a smile, in between rushed breaths. "I got to twenty-three this time - with the _big_ one. Earlier I could barely do fifteen."

"Don't push yourself too much," Kratos muttered, frowning. At which she predictably stuck her tongue out at him.

"'Eat this,'" she mocked, mimicking a mouth talking with one of her hands. "'Do that. _Don't_ do that. Blah blah. My name is Kratos and I'm a big nag.'"

"So I've been told," he sighed.

"There is one thing I would really like, though."

"Yes?"

Sara raked one hand through her frazzled hair. She looked hesitantly off to one side, at the door that had restrained her from the outside world for the better part of three days.

"A shower," she murmured. "Or at least a damn bath. Something." She frowned, and added petulantly:

"I feel disgusting."

He watched as she idly drifted one hand over her shoulder, to brush her fingertips along the gem at back of her neck. And it was at that moment that Kratos noticed, perhaps for the first time, how different she looked now.

What had once been her body's healthy, soft curves were now too-sharp lines. Her skin was no longer its usual shining shade of bronze, but a sort of dull olive. Kratos honestly hadn't viewed her any differently; it was difficult for him to attribute any sort of negative thoughts to her appearance whatsoever.

But being here, alone, away from the world, from everything she cared about and fought to protect - as resilient at she was, it couldn't have been easy to handle. She looked like a caged bird; a dragon with withered, useless wings.

Sara did a masterful job of hiding it, though. Until these telling moments, the little glances he recognized as something _off,_ that suddenly gave everything away.

"Wait here," he said. And immediately regretted it.

Like she had any choice.

He scowled and turned away swiftly, towards the door. "I will return in a moment."

"Okay," she whispered.

He couldn't exactly extract her from her holding cell without garnering much unwanted attention; a demonic vessel in Welgaia's depths was reason enough for constant vigilance from all of Yggdrasill's dull-eyed minions. What Kratos _could_ do, though, was procure a large metal pail from the supply room nearby, along with a fresh washcloth, some plush, fluffy towels, and a brand new bar of Fandalia-flower soap.

Sara had her back turned to him when he re-entered the cell. Her Exsphere glared at him first, winking up from just beneath the line of her fiery hair. She'd been sitting crosslegged on the floor and even in the dim light - though he was sure she would deny this forever - she had actually been _reading_ one of the books he'd brought her. The one about the Kharlan War, and its development of magitechnology.

She immediately slammed it closed and diverted her gaze in an attempt to cover her interest. Kratos smiled knowingly. He approached the sink at the far end of the cell and began filling it with hot water.

"It was boring anyway," she muttered. "Terrible ending, I'm sure."

He quirked one cynical eyebrow at her. "Indeed. Sit, please."

She pursed her lips. "I _am_ sitting."

"At the table." Kratos gestured his head. "Please," he repeated.

"...Okay."

She relocated herself gingerly, swinging her legs over the edge of the chair and resting her elbows on the tabletop. She was absently drawing her hands through her hair, almost like she wanted to make it look better somehow. The dejected expression on her face was decidedly _un-Sara_ \- not one he was familiar with, or wanted to ever see again.

The water from the pail snaked steam into the air. Now that it was near-full, Kratos removed it from the sink and carried it to the table, where he rested it just beside her chair. She eyed it warily, even as he set out one of the towels below where she sat, and kept the other folded on top of the table, just beside both of them.

"Kratos," she murmured quietly. "You're being creepy."

His answer was a short, velvety laugh. He drew up a chair behind her and sat down in it, so that he was facing flush against her back, and that brown tunic that hung loosely off of her shoulders and flank.

The skin around her Exsphere was raised and red, angry. He simply stared at it for several moments, along with the expanse of her broad shoulders, and the array of claw-shaped scars that peppered her freckled skin. From a lifetime of raising those dragons of hers, no doubt.

" _Really_ creepy," Sara emphasized, with a curious glance back at him.

He dunked the washcloth in the water and rubbed it against the bar of soap. It trickled rivulets of water down her spine as he pressed it against her back. He eased it up her shoulder and towards the base of her neck.

Sara inhaled sharply. Her back straightened as if whipped. Her hands were resting on the tabletop; he watched them curl into indecisive fists.

"Is it too warm?" he asked.

She didn't move. She didn't speak for several seconds, either, and instead just kept staring ahead, away from him, at the far wall.

"No," Sara said finally. "It's not."

Immediately, Kratos refreshed the washcloth with a fresh dip in the water and pass against the soap. He glided it up her opposite flank this time, taking care to avoid direct contact with the Exsphere, and the sensitive skin that surrounded it. He did this diligently, intently passing the cloth back and forth over the bare expanse of her back.

She leaned forward a little, and buried her face into her biceps, so that her hands were curling against the back of her head. Her breathing was strange and uneven. He watched her fingertips press into her hair.

"Lower," Kratos heard her say.

He took hold of the hem of her shirt and began to raise it towards her head.

"Take this off," he said. Then tacked on, in a low voice: "Please."

She nodded. She gripped the loose fabric and shifted it over her head, only to discard it in a useless pile on the other side of the table. This left her in only her trademark grey skirt and her beloved dragonscale boots. Her feet shuffled restlessly against the floor.

Kratos guided the cloth against the small of her back. Along either side of her waist, then back up towards her shoulders, and finally down the length of her right arm. He had to lean forward a little to do this, and ended up on the very edge of his own chair, so that his hips pressed into her lower back, and his chest brushed against her shoulders. He bowed his head. He kissed the nape of her neck once, because he simply couldn't.

Sara snapped her head to one side to look at him. Her eyes were tense, and some sort of confused and desperate. She started to open her mouth to say something, but he just circled one arm around her, splayed his fingers into the warm washcloth, and guided it tenderly up her stomach.

"Oh, gods," she groaned.

Her head lolled back against his shoulder. She was shivering; it wasn't cold in here, really, but it might've been the Exsphere's influence again.

Or his. Hard to tell anymore.

The cloth eased up to her chest now, onto her sternum and languorously up the side of her neck. She turned her head to one side to give it better access. Her eyes were squeezed shut. She reached back and grabbed hold of a pair of the belts just above his hips.

He breathed against her throat. His free hand started to venture along her thigh, until it met the edge of her skirt. And that was when she lurched to her feet - so suddenly that she almost fell over - only to turn around and sink her body firmly into his lap, with her legs locked tightly around his waist.

He opened his mouth, closed his eyes, and gasped against her lips. "Sara-"

"I love you," she said into his kiss.

Kratos stilled instantly. For what felt like forever, he simply looked at her, and held his hands against her hips so she wouldn't fall.

"I know I've never _officially_ said that," Sara managed. Her fingers slid into his hair. She smiled again, and he wanted to see it a thousand more times. "And I have like a billion reasons _not_ to say it, but… I love you."

He wanted to say something back, but she kissed him again, and pretty insistently. The way her fingertips were pricking into his jaw, the sounds she made into his mouth, and the pressure of her hips against his kept him silent for far longer than he would've preferred.

Kratos also wanted to ask if she was sure, and if she really meant that - but he realized swiftly that was a _terrible_ idea. If she was saying this now, it was despite everything - and Kratos had no place to challenge her judgment.

He'd tried that once, already. It hadn't worked, and had left him feeling marvelously stupid.

He dropped the washcloth back into the pail in favor of running both hands along her back. Her skin was slick and smooth, and had been warmed by the water, and it was the most resplendent thing he'd ever felt.

"You are never disgusting," Kratos managed finally, against her throat. He felt her breath hitch.

"You are life, Sara," he went on, "and light, and strength, and whether or not I wanted to, all I have ever done is love you."

"Kratos-" Her fingers curled into his hair. She choked something that was ether a sob or a laugh against the side of his head. He stood, effortlessly holding her body against him, and spread out the free towel on the table before gingerly lying her down on top of it.

"Now," he began evenly, in between small, soft kisses along her collarbone, "may I finish what I started?"

For a few seconds, she covered her face with her hands. Then, slowly, they left, revealing blushing red freckled cheeks and a lopsided, mischievous smile. She pulled him down to her for another kiss.

"Only if the ending is good," Sara said.

And Kratos assured, breathlessly: "The best."

* * *

A/N: Lyrics at the beginning are "Hot Gates" by Mumford & Sons. And THANK YOU for reading this far, you marvelous, beautiful human. I thank you more than I can say!


	42. Fortitudo (Bravery)

Chapter Forty-Two

 _Fortitudo_

* * *

 _Tethe'alla. Five years earlier._

* * *

She'd only seen him once before, in passing. And he undoubtedly had no idea who she was; after all, she was a mere servant. He'd barely thrown her a glance as she'd bowed to him, her hands clasped with practiced deference behind her back.

But Alicia Combatir had a good memory.

She didn't know much, but she knew that his blue eyes, crimson hair, and that gem gleaming on his chest meant that he was the Chosen. Ozette, Alicia's hometown, had little to do with the affairs of the castle, but _everyone_ \- even Ozette's so-called 'bumpkins' in the forest - knew that the Chosen had wealth, status.

Power.

That last one was why she'd snuck here, to the Chosen's suite, in the middle of the night. Alicia knew the schedules of the maids at Altamira's resort by heart - and therefore when and where to be to remain unseen. Being small helped, too. George had given her one night to collect her things, and prepare to leave Altamira for good.

She'd chosen to spend this night _otherwise_ occupied.

Being spirited away and handed over to a stranger for some sort of experiment was not something she wanted to just _go along_ with (Alicia had never even heard of an Exsphere before, and wanted no part of dealing with them). She didn't want to leave her life here, all the friends she'd made.

And she really didn't want to leave Master Bryant, either.

Which is why she was here, standing before this room, holding her breath. With one last furtive glance down the luxurious, dimly-lit hallway, Alicia rapped her knuckles against the door.

Almost immediately, an older gentleman answered. It was quick enough that it honestly kind of startled Alicia, who found herself staring open-mouthed at his long, wrinkled face and the inquisitive quirk of one shapely eyebrow.

"Can I help you, miss?"

"Yes," Alicia squeaked. Then quickly hardened her wavering voice. "I need to speak with the Chosen of Mana, please. It's urgent."

"The hour is late." The butler's voice was not unkind, only curious. "Is he expecting you?"

"Um." Alicia bit her bottom lip. "No, but I was hoping he would see me anyway."

"Who should I say calls for him?"

"My name is Alicia Combatir."

The butler turned away and eased the door closed halfway. "Wait here, miss."

The utter insanity of this plan swelled and crashed into her as she stared at the blue and white rug beneath her feet. Maybe this was just her fate. Maybe she should go along with George, no questions asked, because it would make her master's life easier. She always _had_ joked that she caused him nothing but trouble-

"Aren't you _adorable_."

Alicia's pink head snapped up as her mouth dropped open. The Chosen himself now stood in the doorway. She herself was barely fourteen; the Chosen looked to be around five years her senior, at the end of his teenage years. His frame was lithe, wiry. His black, sleeveless undershirt was slightly askew, and there were peculiar red splotches all over one side of his neck. His grin was lopsided, and he had a crystal, half-empty glass in one hand that he casually took a draw from.

"Haven't seen _you_ before," he continued silkily, after swallowing. "Have you come to join the party, my dear?"

"N...no," Alicia managed, furiously wringing her hands in her lap. Some decidedly female giggling reached her ears from inside of his room. Alicia's tiny, pale face erupted volcanically. "I… I've come to ask for your help, Chosen."

"Help?" Zelos finished his drink and held out his empty glass. The butler immediately took it. "Whatever can I do for you, little one?"

"I-" _Honesty_ , she told herself. _Bravery_. "I'm a loyal servant of Noble Bryant, and his associates want to remove me from his service and send me away for some sort of experiment." Alicia squared her shoulders. "I don't want to go. I thought you could help me."

"Me?" Zelos blinked. Then snorted a laugh. "Oh, little one. You mistake me for someone who gives a shit."

"But you're the Chosen!" Alicia stopped the door from closing. "I've heard that you visit the slums in Meltokio. I've heard that you associate with those of us from a lower caste, that you're willing to help people like me."

Sobriety slammed into Zelos' face so hard it should've knocked him unconscious. He frowned. His sky-blue eyes crackled with cold, frosty sparks.

"And I know that," Alicia continued, "you have a sister of a lower-class, and that you've helped her too-"

"You know a _lot_ for a servant girl," Zelos spat.

Alicia forced her chin to tilt proudly. "All I know is what I've heard. I simply ask for your help. Please."

"Zelos," one of those fluttering female voices called. "What are you _doing_? Come back to bed-"

"In a _minute_ ," the Chosen announced. The giggling died abruptly. Alicia held her breath for the millionth time tonight, as Zelos crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

"Why do your noble's associates want to send you away?"

"He loves me," Alicia answered swiftly. "But I am not of his caste. Society determined I was an unfit match."

Zelos sneered. "So romantic. And what do you want me to do for you?"

"Take me away from here."

"To where?"

"Wherever is safe." Alicia idly readjusted the pack around her thin shoulders. "Somewhere away from their experiments. I'm ready to go."

Zelos simply stared at her for several moments. _Through_ her, really. His eyes were sharp and bright as the deadliest of blades.

"You look like her," he murmured finally.

"I…" Alicia's breath caught. "Like who?"

"Thirty minutes," Zelos said quietly. "The harbor. Let no one see you."

Alicia's hands flew to her mouth. But she bowed her head. "Thank-"

"Don't thank me," the Chosen cut in. He turned away, into the room, and glanced at her one last time over his shoulder. "Thank my sister."

The door shut in Alicia's face, then. But she only smiled.

* * *

"This way," the Captain told her.

The ship was small, and meant largely for cargo. It rocked on the waves rather terribly. Alicia didn't mind. She stepped on board swiftly, over creaking boards and the soft lapping of dark water. "Is the Chosen here?"

"Zelos?" The Captain laughed, idly adjusting his broad-rimmed hat. "Of course not. He travels in his own world."

"Where are we going?"

"The Abbey," the Captain offered, turning away, back towards his quarters. "In the Southeast. The Chosen's instructions were very straightforward. I'm to take you there as quietly as possible."

The salty Altamira sea breathed against Alicia's face. Her heart swelled. She ran to the bow of the ship and gripped its rails with both hands, though her fingers weren't nearly long enough to reach all the way around.

If she went to this place, and waited out the public controversy - maybe she and her noble Bryant could finally be together once again. Maybe society would have their fill of drama and move on. He always had remarked how fickle the whim of the people could be. Alicia was patient, and had no problem with waiting.

"You won't be alone," the Captain was saying. "You must've done something right by the Chosen, since he's sending you to live with his sister." A sniff, and an idle stroke of a bearded chin. "Seles doesn't take kindly to strangers, though. Good luck. You're gonna need it."

Alicia didn't mind challenges. She'd faced all the same ones before, when she'd went to Altamira in the first place and started completely over, alone, in an unfamiliar city. Living at this mysterious Abbey would be just another item to check off of her steadily-growing list of accomplishments. She held her breath and smiled into the sky.

* * *

"Oh," was the first thing Seles Wilder said to her.

The Chosen's sister looked identical to Alicia's own age - just beginning her teenage years. In Ozette, shaking hands with strangers was a sign of trust and friendship. Seles, however, merely stared at Alicia's offered hand like it were covered in poison.

"And… how long will you be here for?" was the next.

Alicia dropped her hand and turned her gaze to the small, cozy room and its rich, soft rugs. "Um, I'm not sure. Just long enough for the public outcry to die down, hopefully."

"Public outcry?" Seles' sapphire eyes gleamed in interest. "For what?"

The brown canvas sack Alicia had slung around one shoulder now slid down her arm and thunked to the floor. "It's… a long story. I'm a bit tired and I'd rather not go into it right now, please. But your brother was kind enough to help me when I asked."

This seemed to utterly floor Seles, whose petite jaw dropped. She took a small step back, her small feet shuffling unstably against the carpet. "Y-you mean… Zelos is the one who sent you here?"

"He said it was thanks to you."

Seles looked like the kind of person who didn't smile much. Despite her cheerful golden-yellow hat and matching lace dress, the smooth, waxy skin of her cheeks and the hard edges of her permanently-downturned mouth made her look ancient and tired. But right now, all of that faded into something almost warm as she stared out the halfway-open window beside her, and over the sea, as if she could catch a glimpse of Zelos himself.

"Big brother," she murmured softly.

Alicia opened her mouth to speak; Seles' stony facade snapped back in an instant, with double its sternness, as if making up for its momentary absence.

"I suppose it wouldn't be terrible to have some company for awhile," Seles said, somewhat begrudgingly. "The Papal Knights who guard my chambers day in and day out are _such_ poor conversationalists."

"It's probably rather difficult to talk with all that armor on," Alicia offered.

Seles hummed in thought. "Perhaps you're right. At any rate - your room is next door. Dinner is served at six o'clock sharp." A dismissive wave of one immaculate, white-gloved hand. "Make yourself at home, I suppose."

Those last two words seemed to be Seles' favorite phrase. Alicia smiled anyway, as she bowed slightly.

"Thank you, Miss Wilder."

" _Seles_ is fine."

"Thank you, Seles."

* * *

If Regal had a gald piece for every second he'd spent staring out this office window - he wouldn't need to be president.

Hell, his company wouldn't even need to own _resorts_ , or _mines_ , or just about anything ever manufactured in Tethe'alla - no, the Lezerano company could be run solely on the profits of his pensive stare.

He didn't previously do this quite so much - stand before this huge glass pane, hands clasped behind his back, chest forward with practiced posture, indigo eyes narrowed. Sure, mulling over mergers and acquisitions and promotions and firings definitely warranted thoughtful window-glaring from time-to-time, but… in the past forty-eight hours, Regal could've become a millionaire all over again.  
"I'm sorry," George was saying, "Master Bryant."

One of Regal's hands had curled into a tight, quivering fist, but George had either ignored it or failed to notice it entirely as the butler went on in a low, hoarse voice: "Alicia snuck away last night. I… should've kept better track of her, but she-"

"Why would she leave, George?"

A few thin, silent seconds passed. Then, with a slow laugh: "The affairs of ladies' hearts are beyond my measure to judge-"

"You _wanted_ her to leave." Regal didn't recognize his own voice, honestly. It was slick and icy, like shards buffeting in a blizzard. "You have never approved of my relationship with Alicia. I would be a fool to think that you had nothing to do with this."

That was all it took. Softhearted George never had much of a poker face; the truth came pouring out unstoppably from beneath the butler's mustachioed upper lip. "With the public's reaction, I took it upon myself to do what was best for the company-"

"The _company?"_ Regal at last turned away from the window. He pointedly kept his hands behind his back, though they wrung restlessly and had started to sweat. "I would sooner step down as president than I would spend another moment without her. Tell me what you did with her."

"I-I-" George swallowed hard. He backed up a step and nearly tripped over one of the office chairs; for a moment, Regal surged with guilt and remorse, but the fire blazing in his chest incinerated that swiftly.

"Tell me where she _is-"_

Both polished oak doors to the office suddenly flung open.

Between them, now, with a flippant hand on his hip and a half-cocked smirk on his face, stood Tethe'alla's Chosen of Mana.

Regal blinked. "Eh. Chosen?"

"I tried to stop him," a terribly out-of-breath security guard panted from just behind Zelos' bare shoulders. "He's _fast-_ "

"Good to see you, _Duke,"_ Zelos intoned ceremoniously.

George's wrinkled eyes were the size of gald pieces. Regal's anger petered out into annoyance with a near-audible fizzle. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can I help you? Now is not exactly the best time-"

"It's about your girl," Zelos said casually.

Though he didn't want it to, Regal's breath hitched. "Alicia?"

"Yep," Zelos chirped. He sauntered into the office and grabbed a handful of mints from a crystal dish sitting on Regal's desk. Then stuffed said mints into his pocket - but left one out, which he began opening with his teeth. "She came to see me last night. Asked for my help. Told me she didn't want to be sent away."

George hung his head like a scolded dog. Regal took several deep breaths.

"I'm here to tell you that you owe me a favor, Bryant," Zelos said, grinning around his mint. "She's safe with my sister in the Southeast Abbey."

There was a chair just beside Regal's right elbow. He now sank into it thankfully. "Oh, thank the gods."

"Just me would be fine, truly," Zelos huffed, crossing his arms. "Anyway. She can stay there as long as she wants, until your little scandal becomes just another bruise on the aristocracy's gleaming face. No one knows she's there but us."

"You're sure?" George's voice was wavering. "No one?"

"Well, other than the captain and crew of the ship that took her there, obviously."

A concerned frown pulled on George's mouth, though he said nothing.

"Alright, Chosen," Regal muttered, equal parts annoyed and relieved. "What favor do you ask of me?"

"Oh, come on." Zelos flicked a hand at him and winked. "You think I'm gonna cash that in now? Let me mull on it for awhile, mkay? It's not often I get to hold the will of Lezerano's president in my hand."

Regal smiled through his grimace. "Indeed."

"Until next time, Bryant." Zelos returned the way he came. He absently flicked one mint back over his head; it tumbled a few times, before coming to rest flawlessly in the center of that gleaming dish it had come from.

* * *

Alicia never saw Zelos again. And after just shy of three weeks in the Southeast Abbey - she never saw Seles again, either. Someone claiming to be an associate of Master Bryant's visited Alicia just after dawn one morning, when she was out helping the gardeners water the flowers (possibly from a lifetime of hard work, Alicia never did like letting her hands stay idle).

This man - admittedly a rather strange man named Rodyle, with round glasses and a crooked nose - claimed it was time to return. That Master Bryant had sent for her, and that enough time had passed that she was now welcome back to Altamira. Alicia's heart had swelled so much that she was sure her chest might burst. And she'd gathered her things in a rush, whispered a quiet goodbye to a still-sleeping Seles (who deep down, Alicia had become convinced was nothing but a good person), and absconded on a wooden ship across the sea towards Master Bryant.

Towards _home_.

The trip to Altamira took the better part of the day; Alicia had grown tired, lulled by the rocking of the waves, and had fallen asleep in the small cabin that the new man had provided for her. She had strange dreams; nothing terribly unusual, really, but she'd woken up with a strange sensation she'd never felt before - a heavy warmth on her chest.

Her fingertips drifted along the skin at the base of her throat. A small gem now thrummed there. Alicia was surprised, but not startled, or afraid. It felt like part of her, so much so that she hadn't thrown out the idea that it had simply sprouted from her flesh. Questions to Rodyle and his associates yielded no explanation, so she simply kept her shirt buttoned up over the little red thing and went about her daily tasks as usual.

When she finally returned back to Master Bryant, things couldn't have been better.

Well, that wasn't entirely true - their meetings still had to be conducted in secret, but neither one of them cared.

Alicia was with her Regal again, where she belonged.

She didn't ever really talk about it or mention it to anyone, but that gem that had appeared on her chest made her tired every now and then. Some days it was hard to eat, too, but Alicia was determined to hide it all. To make the best of reality and keep looking on the bright side of things.

Because to see Regal smile again, in that warm, charming, slightly-awkward way she'd grown to love - _that_ was worth everything. Their favorite spot to meet was on the top floor of Lezerano's headquarters, in the lush, fragrant gardens that bloomed there and overlooked the whispering sea. He'd spend hours up there with her at night, staring into the moon, talking with her about anything and everything. He was even making plans to step down as Lezerano's president, so that they could be together in the open, without scrutiny.

And after that, they were going to go back to Ozette. To visit her sister.

Presea would be so happy to see her again.

* * *

 _Present day_

* * *

It didn't matter how many times she'd been back here since that day. Nothing ever got any easier.

Sheena Fujibayashi was hopeful, sure. Probably a little softhearted too, but only in all the ways that mattered.

But she wasn't stupid.

None of those weird, sideways, furtive glances had changed. They spat at her like a snake's venom, from between thatched houses and swaying green grass; bitter arrows meant only to maim and destroy. If they'd ever landed - if Sheena's outside had ever truly matched her meager inner armor - her lavender robes would be peppered with holes and bloostains. And she sure as shit wouldn't be standing on her own two feet anymore.

No, she'd be lying unconscious like her Grandpa - nearly dead, and all kinds of useless in his secluded, darkened confines.

As she stepped through Mizuho's entrance, Sheena kept her chin held high due to only gratuitous amounts of practice. She even gestured back at her companions, like she were some sort of leader and she felt it necessary to encourage their haste.

Hilarious.

Sheena scowled as she thinned her amber eyes at Tiga's house, just a few yards ahead.

"He should know," she announced.

"Who?" Lloyd was speaking now; he'd been glancing curiously around this area since they'd arrived.

"Vice-chief Tiga," Sheena explained. "He's been in charge of Mizuho's operations since-" And her throat closed off, like someone had clamped a hand around her neck. "Anyway, he should know where Regal is."

"That's his name?" Genis asked, wide-eyed, and with a snort of laughter. "This President guy? Seems a bit literal, don't you think?"

"Just wait until you meet him," Sheena smirked.

* * *

"The Meditation Garden," Tiga was saying. He was a middle-aged man in beige robes and a long black ponytail. Lloyd thought he looked straight out of a storybook. All of Mizuho did, really. This place seemed to glow with an otherwordly, mysterious light. It smelled different too; incense burned not only in this house, but in seemingly every garden, at every small, reverent shrine to gods and goddesses Lloyd had never even heard of. He had to make a point to keep his jaw from dropping every few seconds.

"Although I fail to understand why you have brought outsiders into the village," Tiga continued. He sat on his knees before a wooden table (Lloyd wondered why it was so short; wouldn't chairs and longer table legs be easier…?). "You are well-aware of our customs-"

"This is concerning Sylvarant's Chosen," Sheena cut in, though she accented it with a respectful bow. "Bryant's cooperation is required in returning the Chosen to her original form, so that she does not complete the regeneration ritual."

Tiga frowned. "And where is the Chosen, exactly? There were rumors that you had lost her to Cruxis."

Lloyd's stomach clenched. Colette's absence skulked along his back like a frigid breeze. He was at once furious, frustrated and sad, and wanted to offer some sort of explanation, although Sheena spoke before he could.

"She was with us, but then-"

"She's right here."

They collectively whipped around to face that new voice. And relief washed away the heaviness eating at Lloyd's chest; he thought for a moment he might simply float away, due to its abrupt absence.

Yuan and Botta stood in the enrance to the room, flanking Colette. Her eyes were still dull and red, and her face expressionless - but she was _here._ In once piece. Not gone, or possessed by someone else's soul. Lloyd didn't think he'd ever be so glad to see her empty.

"C-Colette?!" Genis managed to find his voice first, before he breathed a joyous laugh. "It's really her! How did you-"

"I told you before," Yuan said thinly, crossing his arms. "The Renegades exist to stop Martel's revival. If I allowed Yggdrasill to fulfill his wishes, that would make me a rather poor leader, wouldn't it?"

Lloyd stumbled towards Colette, only partially hearing anything being spoken. He blinked away tears that had started to sting his eyes. The warnings Yuan had given them earlier about her self-defense tendencies could all go to hell; he eased both his hands onto her pale cheeks and grinned as his forehead rested against hers. Lloyd closed his eyes and stayed like that for several seconds, and he wasn't wishing for her to speak, or snap out of it, or change whatsoever.

He simply thanked all that was holy for the fact that she was here at all.

"You really infiltrated the Tower of Salvation?" Raine asked, equal parts skeptical and awed. "Forgive me, but I was unaware that the Renegades had either the force or the numbers to pull off such a stunt."

"It was a risky operation," Botta elaborated. He paused and blinked for just slightly too long. "The hosts of Cruxis are not easy to toil with. We lost many good men. As Renegades, though, we know the risks when we join."

"Botta's words only underscore your need for haste," Yuan added. "You have the Chosen again. I suggest you keep her here while you seek out the Inhibitor Ore for her Crest."

Tiga got to his feet and nodded. "The Chosen will be safely hidden here, I can assure you."

"Yuan," Lloyd said sternly.

The bluenette quirked an eyebrow at him. "Yes?"

Lloyd stood proudly beside Colette and squared his shoulders. "You knew to go to the Tower because of that transponder you gave Sara, right?"

Yuan frowned a little. "Yes. She and the Chosen were both taken to Yggdrasill."

"Then where is Sara?"

The frown deepened for a moment, before it eased into a smirk. Yuan breathed a quiet, cynical laugh. "You don't have to worry about her. You'll see her again soon."

Lloyd's left hand burned as it clenched into a fist. "W-what? You expect me to just go along with that?"

"I brought you the Chosen," Yuan spat. "I would think that is proof enough of my honesty." He turned away in the swirl of a black cape an aquamarine ponytail. "Come, Botta. It's time we leave."

"Yes, sir."

"What a jackass," Zelos muttered.

Sheena rolled her eyes as she shoved past him. "Oh, like _you're_ one to talk."

* * *

Sheena pointed across the stone bridge and towards a tall, muscular man with indigo-blue hair, who sat crosslegged in a patch of swaying white flowers.

"That's him."

Genis swallowed. "What's he _wearing?"_

"Oh, Duke Bryant's fashion sense has always been rather _eclectic,"_ Zelos snickered. "I remember once he wore a pinstriped suit to a black-tie affair. The media was up in arms for days."

"Positively scandalous," Raine muttered. Her eyes thinned. "You know this Bryant, Zelos?"

"Yes ma'am, my cool beauty." Zelos grinned at both Raine's question and her exasperated head-shake. "We go way back. Like I said - he owes me a favor. Just let me do the talking here, mkay?"

"But of course," Raine sighed, watching Zelos saunter across the bridge. "What could possibly go wrong?"

"Heyooo, Bryant-!"

Zelos had been cheerfully waving a hand in the air as he walked forward; he now paused abruptly, his grin tumbling into a grimace, and his eyes popping wide as they stared at the heel of a thick, steel-toed boot that now hovered scant inches away from his chin.

Slowly, little by little, Zelos lowered his hand and met Regal's gaze. "Ah, Mizuho has indeed taken you under her wing. I see you've been practicing."

"And you've gotten careless," Regal grumbled. His extended leg did not waver or sway in the slightest.

"Pffffft. It's only because I know you'd never do anything to afflict this gorgeous face of mine."

Regal frowned and finally returned his foot beside its counterpart. He wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose again, like he had five years ago, when Zelos had burst into his office - but the shackles around his wrists didn't exactly allow for this.

"You're still wearing those," Zelos murmured, his expression sobering.

Regal nodded stonily. "Always."

"Tch." Zelos planted one hand on his hip. "Ever the masochist. Anyway, whatever - I'm here to cash in that favor."

Regal blinked. "Are you?"

"But first - you've gotta meet my bumpkins."

"B...bumpkins?"

Zelos turned and waved the others forward, grinning again. "Come on, he doesn't bite!"

Genis was openly staring at the heavy metal shackles around Regal's wrists. Lloyd was staring, too, but more at the man's impressive, muscular arms and torso - honestly he looked nearly twice the size of even Kratos - and wondering how much training it took for him to look like that, and furthermore what he had to eat to maintain it.

Raine looked a peculiar mixture of ashamed and curious as she said: "I apologize for our companion's rather… _crude_ behavior."

Regal cleared his throat. "Ah, there is no need for that, I can assure you."

"This is Lloyd," Zelos said, slinging one arm around the teen's shoulders. "And Genis-" He tried to do the same to the younger Sage, who managed to slide out of the way at the last moment. "And his older sister Raine."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Regal said smoothly, and with a courteous half-bow. "I am Duke Bryant - but please, call me Regal."

Genis elbowed Sheena in the hip. "I see what you mean," he whispered. Sheena smirked and nodded.

"They're from Sylvarant," Zelos continued, ignoring the way Lloyd shrugged off his arm as if it were a snake or a leech. "They've got a friend they came all the way here to help. And they need into the Toize Mine to find some stuff called Inhibitor Ore."

"We need to make a Key Crest," Lloyd elaborated with a determined smile. "It's for our friend Colette."

"And Presea, too," Genis chimed in. "Don't forget her, Lloyd."

Regal inhaled sharply. His calm expression jarred, twisting into subtle shock and concern. "Did you say - Presea?"

Genis eyed the older man warily. "Yeah, I did. Presea. She needs a Key Crest, too - so we're going to help her." His eyes thinned and he jutted his chin forward. "Why, do you know her?"

Regal seemed to be deep in thought for several seconds before he spoke again. "No. But I will take you to the mine." He turned away, and approached a shrine at the far end of the garden, only to stare down at it intently. "We leave at dawn."

"See?" Zelos beamed. "Told you it would work!"

"Chosen," Regal said evenly. He was facing away from all of them; his rich voice still cut easily through the air, commanding all attention. "Keep your favor. For Presea - I will lead you there freely."

* * *

A/N: HI GUYS! So, I know this is a large departure from canon, but it felt necessary to me. I never did understand the whole plot of "George gave up Alicia". Like. Why would Alicia just be all, "okay cool bye"? This is a girl that moved across the country BY HERSELF and found work and fell in love. She's a champion. She wouldn't go quietly.

Plus - she looks like Seles! They are the same age, and both shunned by society, and I thought they needed to meet somehow. Zelos needed to have a bigger role in Regal's story, too - not just "saw each other in passing at a party." I wanted to combine all their stories a little bit better. And oh gosh I like writing Regal wayyyy more than I thought I would. This is going to be SO FUN! I'M SO EXCITED YAY!


	43. Salvus (Safe)

Chapter Forty-Three

 _Salvus_

* * *

 _And in the cold light, I'll live, I'll only live for you  
_ _It's all that I am; it's all that I have_

* * *

Her muscles burned. Her chest ached. Fresh drops of perspiration beaded along her hairline and the back of her tense neck. She dug her fingertips into the tile floor - and with a growling, livid curse, Sara managed one more push-up.

Then she flopped onto her belly like a beached whale. A smiling, exhausted, orange-haired beached whale.

Gingerly, as she smoothed her bangs back from her forehead, Sara rolled over onto her back and laughed up at the ceiling. The floor was slick and cool and felt delicious against her heated skin.

It had been a week since she'd been put in this room. In one week, she had gone from barely being able to stand upright or lift her own arms, to something at least resembling her former self. Not only had her dragons' Exspheres been taken from her - which in and of itself made her feel like an utterly useless sack of lard - but then this parasitic purple gem had been put on her back, and it had tried its damnedest to eat up literally all of her energy and strength.

Yeah, fuck that.

Sara had given it a run for its money.

Well - except for the puking. And the insomnia. And the occasional bouts of crying for no reason. Sara's grin hardened into a bitter smirk. Growing an Exsphere was a lot like being pregnant, apparently, if Anna's descriptions had been an accurate depiction. Complete with the cravings for strange foods (yesterday it had been green olives; 'I thought you hated these,' Kratos had said. 'I do,' Sara told him, as she ate her second handful). At least with pregnancy, though, the result was something soft, squishy and sort of cute. The Exsphere would always just _sit_ there, silent and still, and terribly boring.

The door to her cell slid open; Kratos entered, all long legs, messy burgundy hair and goofy golden belts. He didn't bother giving her a strange look when he saw her laying spread-eagle on the floor - prior to her imprisonment, Sara was already rather attention-deficit, and keeping her sequestered in this small room had meant he'd had found her in a variety of peculiar situations. Up to and including literally trying to climb the walls, if only to see what the ceiling 'felt like.'

He had a plastic crate in his arms, now; he gently set this down on the table before offering her one hand.

"You are being released today," Kratos told her.

Sara took his hand and lurched to her feet. And it didn't matter how much time had passed, or what they both had gone through; the simple action of his fingers easing between hers felt indelibly glorious, and never ceased to make her chest bubble. Sara smiled stupidly as she approached the table and the crate he'd brought and peered into it.

Amusement vanished into astonishment. She widened her eyes and dropped her jaw.

Her gauntlets. Her claws. Her beloved embroidered teal duster and her shirt - and even the amulet Kratos had given her a lifetime ago in Sylvarant.

"Yiggy's giving me back all of this?" Sara breathed.

"No." One corner of Kratos' mouth pricked in a tiny smile. "I am."

She immediately leaned in and kissed it. "What about my dragons?"

"You can't wear them yet." Kratos took one of her hands, and idly traced the pad of his thumb across the surface of her empty Key Crest. His brow furrowed worriedly. "Not with the new Exsphere's influence. The mana in your body would go out of control. Once your new Exsphere is safely removed, you will have your dragons back."

Sara sighed. "Dammit. I miss them so much."

"You will see them again," he assured quietly.

She picked up her right gauntlet, and kneaded one of its leather straps affectionately between her fingertips. She frowned.

"What do I tell Lloyd?"

Kratos frowned, too. "About what?"

Sara knew Lloyd. If she knew _anything_ in this world - she knew that kid.

His vital, immeasurable will. And his _temper_ \- because damn it all if they didn't share the same blood, and the same curse of stubbornness.

Sara loved Lloyd for it. Among, like, literally _everything_ else about him. And at the same time she knew, without a doubt, exactly how much trouble it could get him in.

"He's going to see," Sara murmured. "Lloyd's not dumb. He's going to ask about all of this. About why you are there." All traces of contentment vanished from her freckled face. Sara glared hard into the seraph's garnet eyes.

"He's going to want to _kill_ you," she finished deliberately.

"I will handle that."

"Will you?" That leather strap now crunched in her curled fist. "How will you _handle_ it?"

Sara had to give him credit, here. Kratos didn't look guilty anymore. Just pensive and tense, which was exceedingly favorable over _fragile_ and _hurt._

"I will never hurt him," Kratos ground out. "Not beyond what I know he can survive."

Survive? _Seriously?_

This was where she wanted to darken the room. Where the light along her back was supposed to flicker and wane, and her claws would shoot out, and her earthen eyes would become a murky, churning shade of black. Because nothing - _nothing_ in this world summoned her demons more ferociously than the desire to protect her sister's only child.

Even if it was from his own father.

But something wasn't right. The darkness stayed just out of reach, though she strained for it, to dip her fingertips into his beautiful black depths. Sara's breath lurched to a halt just before it reached her tongue. "Oh, hell. I can't, anymore. I _can't._ "

"Can't what?"

"I can't feel them anymore, Kratos."

He waited for her elaboration as he idly fussed with her bangs and tucked them behind her ear.

"The demons," Sara continued wrathfully. "It was just like you said. I got so used to them. I accepted them. I _wanted_ them." She snarled back over one shoulder. "But ever since _this_ thing, they're gone. And to top all of this off: it's taking away all of my strength. How do I fight anymore?"

"You will not have to fight," Kratos answered evenly. "I have been ordered to protect you by Lord Yggdrasill. Recovering is your only task now."

Solely relying on someone else for her own safety? Yeah, _no_. Even if that protector was Kratos - that fit as well with Sara as a square peg in a round hole. She immediately shook her head. "I can't stand that. I can't _stand_ it-"

"You must. For the Exsphere."

Sara turned her back to him. Her sore, angry back. She tore off the sack that had served as a shirt for the last of her days here. _Tore._ As in, left it in beautiful brown shreds at her feet. And she pointedly replaced it with her usual black v-neck undershirt and her teal duster.

The back of her collar had been mended seamlessly. She tried to ignore the way her clothes seemed just slightly too big now as she pulled on her gloves next, followed by her gauntlets. And only when she wiggled her fingers into the tips of her obsidian dragonclaws did she return Kratos' insistent stare.

"If it's for Lloyd," Sara vowed, "it's good enough for me."

She simply watched Kratos for several moments. And _hurt_ and _fragile_ at once made an overpowering, sudden reappearance on his ancient face.

Now, Sara had learned a lot about Kratos in this past week. A _lot._

His life as a Tethe'allan knight. His abusive hothead of a father. How he'd left everything he'd ever known in the royal castle to trust a couple of half-elves, if only for a chance to end the war that had needlessly raged for 900 years prior to his own birth.

Then there were the simple facts. How many books he'd read in four-thousand years. How many times he'd counted the stars.

But first and foremost: Sara learned how to handle his bullshit.

Sara stepped into him and curled her claws beneath the golden belt along his right collarbone, so she could yank his face down to hers.

"Shut up right now."

"I-I-" Kratos was absolutely adorable when he stuttered. A multiple millennia-old, sword-master seraph should not be _stuttering_. She knew now that it was a byproduct of his days as a child, when he preferred cooking and reading over combat. Which he still did, despite how terrifyingly good he'd become at the latter. "I did not say anything-"

"That look on your face," Sara said. "You're guilty. Stop right now."

The way he frowned now confirmed all of her suspicions. So she grabbed hold of his other belt, too, over his opposite clavicle.

"Sure, I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't sign up to become a test subject. To have you completely betray me in front of your leader for the second time. To have my literal _worst fears_ come true."

"Gods, Sara." Kratos slowly closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about… I never meant to-"

"But if there's _one thing_ I'm sure of in this hot mess of a world, Kratos Aurion-" She kissed him once, just a swift whisper of her lips against his. "It's that no matter what you might say or do: you love your son just as much as I do."

Those garnet eyes opened now, and stared wildly into hers.

"So whatever you say I have to do for him," Sara concluded, "that's what goes. Anything for him. _Always_."

Kratos stared. At her claws curling around his belt. At the defiant tilt of her chin as it brought her mouth a hair's breadth away from his own.

"Good," Kratos told her.

"Good," Sara echoed.

He slid his hands onto that wonderful spot where her hips met her sides and pulled her close.

"I love you, my demon," he mumbled.

She grinned. "I love you, too. My jerk-face _._ "

But Kratos scowled gravely. "Must you really insist on calling me that?"

"Absolutely. I think it's perfect."

"It is _ridiculous_."

"Exactly. Just like you." Sara kissed him again, quickly. Then let go and turned to the door with a stony square of her shoulders, her angry back be damned. "Now let's go. One more minute in this sterile hellhole, and I'm going to lose what precious little's left of my mind."

* * *

Raine knew an unsettlingly small amount about Tethe'alla. And what she knew most was that she didn't know _enough_. So when they arrived at the entrance of this mine, and saw its giant, gleaming arrangement of foreign (yet undoubtedly glorious) technology, she was the first one to halt them all in their tracks and make them wait.

"Marvelous," she breathed.

She gaped at the gleaming silver and onyx walls made of otherwordly magitechnology she'd never seen. Madness, this was. Brilliant, robotic madness; this device had clearly been designed to lock and protect the mine's entrance. It looked automated, and ready to spring into action at any intruder's presence.

Regal took a few purposeful steps forward. "I will handle this."

Those walls shifted, churned. Clicked forebodingly. Lanky metal arms sprawled forth from their face, and slashed through the dusty air. Regal, however, walked forward unperturbed. Each one of the robot's strikes seemed to just miss him, almost like he'd known their path beforehand.

Genis tugged on his sister's sleeve. "Is he _crazy?"_

"Probably," Raine admitted. Though something inside her kind of admired the Duke's posture, his poise. He was a strange sense of quiet and reserved that reminded her quite a bit of Kratos - although with less drama, and more tact.

Her brother sighed. "I just hope this works."

"Me, too."

It didn't take much, other than a few seconds of Regal standing before the gate. Those slashing arms stilled. The humming died. Regal and his peculiar shackled wrists didn't move an inch.

"This way, please," he announced simply. And he started to walk forward, those metal greaves along his shins echoing eerily in the dense, stagnant air.

"It looks _gross_ in there," Zelos remarked with a distasteful frown.

"This mine has not been opened in several years," Regal announced, his indigo-blue hair just barely visible through the dim light. Clusters of naturally-sprouting crystals lined the mine's main passage, thrumming with a soft, eerie glow. "I would advise you to watch out for pitfalls and cobwebs. The spiders in this region have been known to grow to the size of a small horse."

Zelos not only stopped dead, but swirled around on one heel and made a beeline for the entrance he'd just walked through. " _Nope_. I'm out. You guys have fun. I'll be here sending you my thoughts and prayers-"

"Don't add _coward_ to your list of _admirable_ traits," Sheena snarled, firmly gripping his collar and dragging him along like a sack of potatoes. "Believe me, it's already _plenty_ long."

"So you've noticed," Zelos smirked. Then pouted at a punishing tug from her fist.

Naturally, the Inhibitor Ore was in the deepest regions of the mine, and found along only one particular wall that would've been pretty impossible to find if not for Regal's guidance. The stuff grew straight out from the rock's face - a brassy, amber crop of surprisingly soft minerals that Lloyd managed to dislodge from the wall with a few well-placed taps from the hilt of one sword. Kratos had told him to make three crests - he'd worry about why the traitor had told him this later. Right now it was good enough for him. So Lloyd narrowed his eyes and nibbled on his bottom lip and filled his pockets with what he hoped was enough of the stuff to fashion a trio of crests.

He hoped, next, that Altessa would allow them into his home this time. To use his forge, and hopefully lend them his help. Lloyd wasn't sure that he could craft these things on his own; while Dirk had always encouraged him to hone his skills, he'd hardly had the time or motivation to become anything close to a true craftsman.

This had been evidenced by the shoddy excuse for a pendant he'd given Colette for her birthday. Lloyd glared hard at the clump of ore resting in his palm.

This time would be different. He'd make sure of that.

* * *

"You're back," Tabatha said to them. The strange, puppet-like girl didn't smile or seem to welcome them at all; she simply stated this as if it were a fact.

"Presea isn't here," Lloyd said pointedly. "I know Altessa doesn't want her around, so we left her at her home in Ozette. But we brought the Inhibitor Ore."

Tabatha paused for a few moments, seemingly considering her next action. Then she opened the front door halfway and stepped back inside. "Please, wait a moment. I will inform the master."

Lloyd stared hard at the wedge of dim light that led inside. If Altessa turned them away again, what was he going to do? Force himself inside anyway, like a common thug? Find somewhere, and some _one_ else to complete the forging process?

"It'll be alright," Sheena said gently. Lloyd looked up at her; she was smiling warmly, and with a touch of concern. "Altessa is grumpy, but I've heard he's reasonable enough. I'm sure he'll lend us his help."

"I hope so," Lloyd mumbled.

Tabatha returned to the door. Lloyd held his breath.

"The master desires to see proof of your crafting skills," she announced.

Raine, Genis, Zelos, Regal and Sheena all zeroed in on Lloyd now. The teen widened his eyes. "P-proof? Like what?"

"The pendant," Genis offered, smiling. "You took it back from Colette, right? Let him see that!"

Lloyd slowly procured the thing from one of his pockets and frowned down at it. "I guess… this will have to do. It's all I have." He handed it to Tabatha, who took it with her stiff, waxy fingers.

"Please wait here," she said.

Regal watched her walk away with a peculiar, uneasy expression. "What a strange girl. She doesn't seem… real."

"She's definitely missing something upstairs," Zelos smirked, twirling his first finger around the side of his head. "Cute enough to make up for it, though."

Regal huffed a deep laugh and smiled a little. "I must say, Chosen, your devotion to always staying the same is rather admirable."

Zelos grinned. "I think so too. Very kind of you to notice. Thanks."

"Anytime."

The front door opened once more. Altessa himself stood there now; it was impossible to tell if he was frowning due to his long grey mustache and beard, but Lloyd had a feeling that he was, beneath all of that hair.

"Amateurish," the dwarf scolded. He dangled the pendant before his wrinkled, dark eyes. "About one quarter complete."

Lloyd's shoulders slumped. "...Yeah, my dad said the same thing."

"I wouldn't trust you to make the Crests on your own," Altessa grumbled. He paused here, seemingly oblivious to the seven pairs of eyes boring into him expectantly. "Clearly, your skills could use some work."

"But we brought the ore all the way here, and-"

"Which is why you're going to need my help," Altessa finished. He palmed the pendant and handed it back to Lloyd with what the teen guessed was some sort of smile, although it was really just a subtle shifting of his beard.

Lloyd's face lit up with glee. "R-Really?! I-I mean, yeah, thanks, Altessa. I won't let you down!"

* * *

"Hey, Sheena?"

Corinne's tiny, soft voice barely registered in Lloyd's ears at all. His mind was mostly full of _clank_ s and _tangs_ and the hissing of steam and the churning thrum of the forge in front of him. Sheena and the others were sitting nearby, organizing supplies, eating well-deserved dinner, but Lloyd hadn't been interested in anything other than processing this ore properly. His mind had firmly entered its trademark one-track mode; it would take something rather earth-movingly important to distract him now.

"Yeah, Corinne?" Sheena said, idly scratching behind the little fox's pointed ears.

Corinne gestured his head outside, towards the nearby window. "Just so you know, there's that same man over there. And he's with that woman, too."

Lloyd's hunched back straightened. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head towards Corinne's voice.

"What?" Sheena frowned and stood up. "What man?"

"The one with the red hair and all the belts. And the sword! And the woman with him has lots of freckles-"

 _Clang!_

Lloyd dropped his tongs.

His eyes flew open wide as he shot to his feet. He wasn't wearing his usual red top and therefore was clad only in his sleeveless black undershirt - but he still had his swords at his hips, and that was plenty good enough for him. He pointedly ignored Sheena's half-spoken word of warning and forced the front door open with a weary creak.

 _Red hair and all the belts. Lots of freckles._ His heart leapt into his throat. The back of his left hand started to burn and roar.

The night air swept across his face but did little to settle his heaving breaths. Lloyd was only marginally aware of his companions following him outside and lining up behind him, murmuring to one another. He raked his fervent gaze across the horizon and, through the cyan-tinted moonlight, spotted the silhouettes of two very familiar figures.

One, he never wanted to see again. Well, okay, that wasn't _entirely_ true - he welcomed the sight, if only for the chance to palm his blades and swing them into retribution.

The other, try as hard as he might, made him instantly start to cry. This was terrible for a potential battle, though he could do nothing about it. Because those sharp, broad shoulders and that flickering orange hair were things he'd missed with every inch of his soul, and things he'd become nauseatingly unsure of ever laying eyes on again.

"Lloyd," the Professor was saying tersely. And he could just picture her trademark obstinate glare and the white-knuckle grip of her staff. "Calm down. You must think rationally. _Wait-"_

Yeah, _no_.

Lloyd grit his teeth. He drew his blades. He stomped forward, alone, his arms quivering, his heart pounding, and he only finally paused when he heard a telltale _schring_ and saw a flash of silver as Kratos brandished that same damn sword and pointed it straight for Lloyd's throat.

The seraph was standing in front of Sara, and just slightly to her side. He clearly had no intention of moving whatsoever. The growl lingering in Lloyd's chest boiled up until it spilled out through his gritted teeth:

"Let her go _."_

Sara took a small step forward, around Kratos' outstretched arm. And Kratos seemed to disapprove of this, because he immediately swayed his arm to one side to halt her advance.

Lloyd's chest smoldered with fresh, raw rage. " _Don't touch her!_ "

For just a moment - and it might have been Lloyd's imagination - Kratos seemed to flinch, and looked genuinely taken aback. To be fair, Lloyd kind of was, too, although he didn't let it show - his tone of voice was murderous, decidedly deadly. He'd never heard himself speak like this before.

But he'd already lost his mother to Cruxis. And now that he was grown, and strong, and far from being a helpless child - there was no way in _hell_ he was letting her sister meet the same fate.

"Back away slow," Lloyd commanded, "or I swear, Kratos, I will kill you where you stand."

"Lloyd." Sara's voice was strained and way too raspy. And the sound if it saying his name melted him as much as it steeled his will. He frantically met her identical umber eyes.

"It's cool," she continued gently, through a tentative smile. "I'm okay. Just calm down, Lloyd. Please."

Kratos seemed to suddenly give up. He lowered his arm, gave Sara a peculiar, almost sad glance, and sighed.

"…Go," he muttered.

And then Sara was sprinting towards Lloyd with all the purpose of an arrow fired from a bow. Lloyd's mouth fell open. He shook his head in disbelief. He straight-up dropped his swords uselessly to the ground so he could meet her halfway.

Lloyd's arms crushed her as close as he possibly could. He heard all the air sail from Sara's lungs. He buried his face into her shoulder and let his fresh tears sink into that cheerful teal-blue cloth of her duster.

He belonged here. He belonged in this tight, familiar embrace. Lloyd choked out her name as he gripped fistfuls of her shirt and held on desperately.

"Oh, kid," Sara croaked. Her knees buckled. Lloyd held her up easily. "Gods, I missed you so _much-_ "

 _Too_ easily.

Lloyd realized in a sickening rush that she felt bony. Almost… fragile. Which was _so_ far from how he remembered her. It had only been a week… how could this have happened so fast? He held his breath and pulled back, keeping his hands anchored on her shoulders. He felt the bottom drop out of his chest.

"Y-you're-" He shook his head again, slower this time, as he peered over her dull skin, her sunken cheeks, the extra lines that creased behind her eyes. She looked like a shell of her former self. "You're sick, Sara. What is- what did they _do_ to you?"

"It's alright," she assured, idly fussing with his bangs. "I'm fine, okay? Listen, we need to-"

"You're _not_ fine."

Lloyd's expression darkened. Did they do this to his mom, too? Had Sara gone through the same merciless torture his own mother had been forced to endure? His stomach clenched. He glared at Kratos from over Sara's shoulder, and felt fury coil in his gut all over again.

"Did _he_ do this to you?"

Sara exhaled and closed her eyes. "Lloyd-"

"Yes," Kratos interjected. "I did."

There were a few stunned gasps from behind them all. Time seemed to screech to a halt for Lloyd, who tightened his possessive grip on Sara's arm. "...What did you say?"

"I placed the new Angelus Project Exsphere on her as instructed," Kratos elaborated evenly. He was talking about all of this like it were nothing, like he'd merely bought groceries or cooked dinner. Lloyd's hand started to shake.

"Her new Exsphere must be cultivated in the flourishing world." Kratos stepped forward, impossibly silent, his garnet eyes hidden in a veil of bangs and moon shadow. "As such, I have been instructed to accompany and guard her."

"To _guard-?"_ Lloyd scoffed a laugh and stepped protectively in front of Sara. "Like you did with Colette? You've _got_ to be kidding. Do you think I'm stupid enough to believe you again?"

"It's alright, Lloyd," Sara told him.

Her tone was way too soft. Way too _okay._ Lloyd's gaze flew to Sara's face. She wasn't looking at him. She kept looking at Kratos, like he was all she could see.

"Kratos won't hurt us," she continued quietly. "Cruxis needs me. He's here to keep me safe. That's all."

Lloyd gaped at her. "Sara, what are you talking about? This is ridiculous! _I_ can keep you safe!"

"But I can't do that for you, kid. Not anymore." Her hands curled into fists. She brought them together in front of her - to display both of her empty Key Crests. Her voice was like churning shards of glass. "They took my dragons and my demons away. I'm useless until this Angelus Project bullshit runs its course. Kratos has to fight for me now."

Lloyd swallowed hard and blinked away more tears. "I don't understand any of this, Sara."

"Neither do I." She smirked and breathed a cynical laugh. "None of this makes any sense. And I don't know why they want this Exsphere." She hugged him, and he pressed his forehead against her collarbone as her fingers eased into his hair. "But I know Kratos brought me here to be with you again, and that's enough for me."

"Forgive me, Sara," Raine was saying thinly. "But this places the rest of us in a rather precarious situation. Allowing a traitor back into our ranks seems incredibly risky and foolish."

"You do not have a choice," Kratos announced simply.

Genis immediately bristled and grabbed hold of his kendama. "Don't have a _choice_? Says who?!"

"Either you allow me to carry out my mission without resistance, or we will fight once more." The seraph rested one foreboding hand on the hilt of his sword. "...You would do well to remember the results of our last battle."

The phantom pain of his lower leg snapping in half lanced through Genis' taut nerves. His determined frown melted into a grimace as he slowly lowered his kendama back to his side. Beside him, he heard Raine mutter a dejected curse.

Regal's eyebrows raised curiously. "Rather arrogant, isn't he?"

"You have no idea," Raine sighed.

Lloyd scowled. "Fine, Kratos. But if I so much as see you lay a finger on any of them-"

"You'll what?" Kratos stepped forward again and squared his broad shoulders. "Fight me once more and lose? You still lack the skills to defeat me."

"You _bastard-"_

Sheena darted forward and grabbed Lloyd's wrist before he could lunge. " _Don't_." When the teen whirled around to glare at her, she said plainly: "He's right. Colette and Sara are back. That's enough for now, okay? We have to finish making the three Crests."

"The third," Zelos began. His eyes were thinned as he stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Not Presea's, or Colette's. It was meant for Sara, then." He eyed Kratos knowingly. "That's why you told Lloyd to make three."

Kratos said nothing. Sara was giving him a wide-eyed, almost surprised look.

"And a man of many words," Regal added.

Zelos chuckled and waved a dismissive hand at Kratos. "Bah, you're better off just ignoring this guy. He's more machine than man, anway. It's not like he's gonna answer you."

The front door to Altessa's home slowly opened. Tabatha hesitantly peered outside. "Is everything alright? Forgive me for interrupting. I heard raised voices."

"We're fine, Tabatha," Raine said on a resigned exhale. She rubbed her temple tiredly with two fingertips. "Please prepare an additional pair of beds. You'll be having two more guests, apparently."

* * *

A/N: Thaaaaaaanks for reading! Lyrics at the beginning are Mumford & Sons "There Will Be Time."

I LOVED writing this chapter. And I'm going to love the next few, too, because it's where Kratos will rejoin the main cast! And he gets to have interactions with the others like he never could in the game! *flails* Oh god I'm so excited. Please drop me a review! Thanks and love!


	44. Nos (We)

Chapter Forty-Four

 _Nos_

* * *

 _Time has stopped before us; the sky cannot ignore us  
_ _No one can separate us, for we are all that is left  
_ _The echo bounces off me; the shadow lies beside me  
_ _There's no more need to protest, for now I can begin again_

* * *

Yuan swirled the malbec in his glass for probably the hundredth time. The fingers of his free hand traced back and forth in constant, thoughtful lines along the leather armrest of his chair, and over the small gold inlays snaking along its edges. Botta sat across from him, on the other side of the grand oak table; the bulky half-elf was intently perusing a collection of documents and maps pertinent to their next mission.

Which Yuan, right now, couldn't even remember. Nor did he particularly care about. He frowned down at his glass.

"That color," he muttered.

Botta's hunched head lifted. "What was that, sir?"

"Did you see it?" Yuan scoffed at his own stupidity and shook his head. "No, you wouldn't have. It was a stupid question. Just ignore me."

One corner of Botta's stoic mouth pricked up. "Forgive me, sir, but I swore an oath to never do that."

Touche. Yuan smirked back. "The Exsphere that Kratos put on the demonic vessel. It… had a peculiar color."

Botta, appropriately, had nothing to add. Instead he continued to sit and listen quietly as he steepled his hands beneach his chiseled chin.

"It reminded me of something," Yuan went on. He stopped swirling his glass. The wine kept swishing, carried on by momentum. "Something I haven't seen for a very long time."

"What might that be?"

The door to the office opened. And Yuan hadn't quite noticed how silent this room had been until the sound of that door sliding ajar made him jump like a startled deer and splash at least a third of his wine all over the thankfully-black fabric of his pants.

"Sir-"

The glare Yuan shot at the intruding soldier looked livid enough to set the hapless man aflame.

"Ah," the man began, shrinking back a few steps. Though he hid it well, with a practiced square of his shoulders. "Apologies, sir. Should I come back at a later time?"

Yuan sighed and set down his glass. "No, sergeant. What message do you bring me?"

"The Protozoan and the Centurling dragon have been successfully relocated to Tethe'alla via the teleporter. They should make contact with the Irving boy and his aunt shortly."

"Good." Yuan dabbed absently at his damp thigh with the edge of his equally-black cape. "Excellent work."

"Th-thank you, sir." The soldier left; Yuan could practically hear the young man's smug smile.

Botta rather miraculously procured a towel from somewhere and offered it across the table. With a bitter frown, Yuan accepted it.

"You were saying, sir?" Botta asked.

"Perhaps later." Yuan stood and turned towards the door. "There is something I must investigate on my own. Wait here until I contact you."

"As you wish."

* * *

"I do not believe we have met."

That seemed like a very normal thing for Regal to say. Anything other than a chaste, salubrious salutation would've seemed out of place and inappropriate. After all - several years' worth of associating with all manner of Tethe'alla's aristocrats had left Duke Bryant with a glorious bare minimum of awkwardness towards approaching strangers.

Even if said stranger happened to be a high-raking, traitorous seraphim of Cruxis.

Regal couldn't _truly_ shake hands with anyone. Physically. The most he could offer was a sort-of awkward turn of one hand while he attempted to yank the other out of the way. Shackles made this sort of thing rather difficult.

Although he wouldn't remove them, ever. Even though he could.

This seraphim of Cruxis - _Kratos_ , Regal had recalled - didn't talk much. Didn't move much, either, as he lurked arms-crossed in the corner of Altessa's house with all the fortitude and poise of a stone gargoyle. Kratos' face was equal parts youthful and ancient, hopeful and diminished. It reminded Regal a bit of himself. And that damnable way he used to stare out the window of his office.

"We have not," Kratos deadpanned.

The offered hand(s) dropped.

"Regal Bryant," he settled for.

"Kratos Aurion."

The response had been succinct and factual. Not rude or off-putting at all, as Regal had somewhat expected.

"Kharlian in origin," Regal offered. "Or, 'angelic language' as most call it. In the old common tongue, that name would mean 'morning of strength.' I was required to study ancient Angelic in school."

"I see," Kratos said.

He wasn't paying much attention to Regal; the seraph kept his garnet-eyed glare pointedly across the room, towards Altessa's forge, at either Lloyd or that orange-haired woman next to him that Regal hadn't properly met yet, either. But who was apparently Lloyd's aunt?

Regal had gotten himself involved with a rather _interesting_ group of people, hadn't he?

"I must admit I was not aware that Cruxis _actually_ existed," Regal continued amiably, since this conversation had all the life of a fish in the desert. "To myself and most of my employees, the angels of Cruxis are merely a legend."

"'Employees?'"

"Indeed," Regal said swiftly. "I am the president of the Lezerano company."

Kratos huffed a laugh. "I'm sorry."

"For what, may I ask?"

The seraph seemed to completely ignore this question and instead cocked his burgundy head at the thick lengths of metal around both of Regal's wrists. "What are those for?"

 _Alicia,_ Regal almost said. His lips had parted to speak the first syllable of her name.

"I committed a crime," Regal answered instead, with a straightening of his shoulders, and a puffing of his toned chest. "These shackles represent my punishment."

"Incompetent human justice," Kratos murmured caustically. His nimble fingertips idly drummed against the hilt of his sword.

Regal smiled a little. "You are incorrect. I was not ordered to wear these by any judge."

The drumming stopped. And the silence that remained asked its own question.

"I chose this punishment," Regal went on. Which was completely the truth, and something he always spoke, ironically, with nothing but pride. "I took an innocent life. My crime will never vanish. I wear these by choice as penance."

Kratos' spine bolstered itself into something staid, something prideful. And he ignored Regal again, in favor of gazing at what was now unmistakably that orange-haired woman.

"Willing self-punishment results in nothing but fear and inaction," Kratos stated evenly. And with a tiny, almost peaceful hint of a smile. "Guilt is a useless emotion."

Oh.

Well, then.

Given the seraph's so-far ubiquitous brooding countenance, that had been the _last_ response Regal had expected. He felt pleasantly challenged, like he'd entered into a subtle battle of wits.

"Useless?" Regal queried. "When utilized properly, guilt only fortifies my spirit."

"Not your fighting skills." Kratos flicked his eyes to Regal's handcuffs. "Clearly."

That subtle battle had become the low hum of a war-cry. "I can assure you, I defend myself quite well with only my legs."

Kratos had been leaning the broad expanse of his back against the dusty clay wall. He now pulled away, taking a few calm steps forward. "I have never seen a man fight with solely his legs."

Regal, who was honestly quite a bit larger than this mysterious seraph, made no motion in the contrary - until it looked like Kratos had begun approach the forge. Which is where all of the important things were happening - for _Presea_ \- and where Regal would be damned for allowing anything to go awry.

So he slid forward, and blocked Kratos' path with his body. The frown on the Duke's square jaw was hard to miss.

"You're young," Regal countered. "I would imagine there are _many_ things you have yet to see."

The air over Kratos' shoulders seemed to shimmer and gleam, until a pair of glassy, pale-blue wings burst forth and hovered along his back. Followed by a pointed grip of the hilt of his sword.

"Perhaps you're right," Kratos said silkily.

Regal smiled again. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"Lloyd is about to crack the mold. If he does not cool the mixture, this will delay the forging process."

"S _eriously_?"

This new voice wasn't Regal's, or the seraph's. It was low and raspy, but still somehow feminine. And it was accompanied by a rolling pair of umber eyes.

"Kid," Sara continued, waving a hand vaguely in Lloyd's direction. "Ask Altessa to help. Cool that stuff for a minute first. Apparently it's too hot."

The dwarf in mention took a second look at his forge and, with a drag of his hand down the length of his dusty beard, nodded in agreement. "Hmm, it seems Kratos is right. Let the metal rest."

Lloyd gingerly eased the pair of tongs he'd been holding into the empty grip meant to house them. "Ah, sure."

Sara brushed her smudged hands off on her black leggings. "Put those away, Kratos. Gods. This is no place for a pissing contest."

Kratos scowled. But his hand slowly backed away from his sword and his wings vanished in a shower of graceful cyan sparks.

"And I haven't met you yet," she continued, sending Regal a skeptical, yet somewhat amused look, "but you must've said something pretty ballsy to make Kratos all uppity like that." She extended her hand towards him, grinning wide. "Sara Irving."

The bright white of her broad smile stood out starkly from her tan skin and the freckles dotting her cheeks. Regal opted to forego the offered handshake - for the second time in as many minutes - and instead cupped her palm, bowed, and pressed his lips to her knuckles. A practice he'd performed literally thousands of times. Customary, upon first meeting ladies of Tethe'alla.

" _Enchanté,"_ he said smoothly. "Duke Regal Bryant."

And then Regal remembered sensing three very distinct things all at once:

The first was the sound of metal scraping and singing through the air. The second was the slight hissing of a breeze that rushed by one of his ears.

And the third was the edge of a cold steel blade pressing just beneath the rigid line of his jaw.

All three happened within the blink of an eye. Regal cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak-

"Do not touch her," Kratos snarled. "She is not yours."

Every eye in the room went to their awkward, murderous trio. The air stilled. Regal heard someone gasp; he dared not turn his head to look at who.

"No offense meant, I assure you," Regal said, gingerly arising from his apparently misplaced bow. "Forgive me, Sara. I suppose I did not realize the extent of Cruxis' protectiveness towards its treasures."

"Y-yeah," Sara blurted, in a crisp, tense laugh. " _Cruxis_. Right. Nice to meet you, Regal, all the same."

Once Kratos' blade had left his neck, Regal cracked it pointedly. "Likewise."

* * *

"It wouldn't look like _that,"_ Genis protested at once.

Lloyd frowned at the cement mold resting in his hand. "Why not?"

"It's not _pretty_ enough," Genis finished on a mutter. He stared down at his feet as they shuffled against the dusty sandstone floor. "Presea isn't like other girls. She needs something special."

Lloyd sighed. His hands and shoulders already ached from finishing Colette's Crest, which now sat completed and cooling in the back of the room, giving off a faint reddish glow.

"Genis, I don't think we have time for-"

"How long did Colette's pendant take you, huh?"

Lloyd's eyes now widened. His frown vanished. He scratched at the back of his head with one rough, blackened hand. "Uh, well. A few days, maybe? Not nearly long as it should have-"

"And you're telling me you can't spend a few more hours making Presea's Key Crest look nice?" Genis' small pale face was positively raging with furious recalcitrance. "What kind of guy _are_ you, Lloyd?"

"Genis-"

"Teach _me_ , then!" He shoved his sleeves up to his elbows and furrowed his brow. "I'll do it myself!"

Lloyd sighed again. He set his chosen mold down - a simple one of a diamond-shape - and instead picked up another, with elegant lines that spread like tree branches.

"How's this, instead?"

And his best friend's obstinate frown now eased into a small, grateful smile. "That's the one I would've picked."

* * *

Not one hair on her golden head was out of place. It was like she'd entered a state of suspended animation; her holy tunic was still bright white, and her soft skin looked untouched by any earthly filth. But Colette's eyes were still that creepy, dull shade of red that Lloyd had grown only to hate.

He was beyond ready for them to return to their normal blue. And to see her smile again.

"I'm sorry," he told her, for the thousandth time. He and the others had returned to Mizuho; Colette, true to Tiga's word, had been kept safely hidden in the mystical village.

"I finished your present, finally," Lloyd went on, breathing a soft laugh. "Took me long enough, right? But I worked really hard on it this time, and I think it will help you get back to normal."

He could feel the silent stares of his companions boring into his back, watching intently; they had all waited just as long for this, too. They had fought for her with just as much ferocity, hoped with just as much courage.

Except for Kratos, obviously. Who literally caused all of this.

Fresh distaste squelched into Lloyd's mouth as he frowned. The fact that the traitor was once again part of their ranks made his chest burn; he wanted to turn and glare at Kratos furiously all over again, for probably the dozenth time today - but Lloyd reigned the urge back and took a calming breath.

"Anyway, Colette-" He undid the small clasp on the pendant's graceful chain, and eased it around her shoulders and towards the back of her neck, beneath all of that flaxen hair.

"Happy late birthday," Lloyd concluded. "Please, come back to us."

Seconds ticked by. Lloyd stared hard at her motionless face, his heart pounding. His hands curled into fists.

Nothing happened.

"M-maybe it just takes a little while?" Sheena suggested gingerly.

Lloyd hung his head. "No. It's not that. I didn't do it right."

Sheena took a tentative step towards him. "Hey, don't-"

"You do not know that," Kratos cut in.

Lloyd whipped around to face the seraph, who stood along the far wall - beside Sara, always, which never ceased to make Lloyd sick - with his arms crossed and his cinnamon eyes thinned thoughtfully.

"No one has ever attempted to make a proper Key Crest for the Chosen's Cruxis Crystal," Kratos continued. "There is no telling how long it may take for her to return to normal. If at all."

Lloyd blinked at him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to argue, or agree, or ignore Kratos entirely. Thankfully, Zelos spoke for him:

"I've been wondering about this. Why is Cruxis suddenly okay with letting Colette here regain her soul? Wouldn't that undo all the work you did in Sylvarant?"

Lloyd blinked again. Of _course._ He'd been so focused on, well, _hating_ Kratos that he hadn't stopped to think about any of that.

"Yeah," Lloyd added, proudly tilting his chin. "You're standing right here watching me try to keep Colette from becoming a true angel. But you fought and nearly killed all of us at the Tower of Salvation to ensure just that."

Kratos' stony expression didn't waver in the slightest.

"It has something to do with Sara, then," Raine said factually. "And the Angelus Project. Somehow whatever Yggdrasill has planned for her has become more important than obtaining the Chosen."

"Lord Yggdrasill's will is absolute," Kratos stated icily. "I have no need to explain."

"Did you find out anything, Sara?" Raine asked. "When you were at Welgaia?"

Sara frowned. "No. I was kept in a solitary holding cell twenty-four seven. I didn't set foot outside for a week. Not to mention the fact that all of my energy and time was devoted to, you know, _not dying_."

Raine flinched and dropped her gaze to the floor. "I see. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Sara grumbled. "I'm still here, somehow." A lopsided, cynical smirk. "Unfortunately for all of you."

"Well, we can equip your Key Crest next, Sara," Lloyd said, once again surging with hope. "That way we can get that Exsphere off of you and Cruxis can leave you alone-"

"Not yet," Kratos interjected.

He'd been doing that a _lot_ today.

Lloyd bristled. "What? Why?"

"The Exsphere is not fully mature. Regardless of a Key Crest, removing it before the appropriate time would not only render the Exsphere permanently useless, but would result in Sara's mutation into a monster." His garnet eyes thinned. "Is that what you want?"

Lloyd's breath caught. "O-of course not. But keeping it on her is making her sick. When will it be time?"

"I will know," Kratos answered plainly. "Only a seraph of Cruxis can sense its mana properly."

"So we're supposed to _trust_ you?" Lloyd seethed. "Just take your word for it?"

"That didn't exactly work out _well_ last time," Sheena added petulantly.

"This thing is valuable," Sara said, gesturing her chin over one shoulder. "Cruxis wouldn't risk anything happening to it. You don't have to worry about that, Lloyd. Okay?"

She was trying valiantly to wear what had once been her broad, beaming smile. It didn't even come close. Colette's still-lifeless eyes were staring uselessly ahead; Lloyd felt the biting fangs of failure pierce into him all over again, injecting livid streams of shame and remorse.

"I just don't want to see you suffer, Sara," he muttered, glaring down at his crimson boots. "I don't want you to end up like Mom."

He heard Sara's breath catch. The air in the room seemed to cloud, to become instantly heavy. Lloyd couldn't bring himself to look up from his feet; he saw Sara begin to step towards him, and fully expected to hear her say something positive, something encouraging to ease his fear.

Instead, he heard Kratos say, in a positively steely, self-assured voice:

"That will not happen."

Lloyd's head snapped up. He started to gape at the seraph, but Kratos was already making his way towards the exit, his eyes shielded in the spikes of his bangs. He slid open the door and stepped quietly outside.

"Anyway," Sara began - and her voice was just a bit too rough - "you know who we _can_ help right now? Presea. Let's go see her, yeah?"

Lloyd kept staring at that half-open front door. It took a few moments for his throat to start working once more, but he eventually agreed with a determined nod.

* * *

Ozette, while not far from Mizuho, was not nearly close enough to reach before nightfall. Camp had been set up on the edge of the Gaoracchia forest - nearly in the same spot they'd been earlier, actually, before Sara had become a Cruxis test subject and Colette had been whisked away into Yggdrasill's waiting embrace. (And subsequently rescued; apparently the Renegades were, in fact, good for something. Who knew?)

Zelos remembered this place.

He'd had The Nightmare here. It deserved capital letters because it was the only one he'd had in his twenty-thee years so far - and at this rate, would be the only one he'd _ever_ have. He remembered lying down to sleep in his bedroll - made of the finest Meltokian silk and down stuffing, of course. He remembered thinking it was weird and slightly creepy that Tethe'alla's famously-haunted forest sat mere meters beside him. Oh, and also that he'd probably wake up covered in bugs, because _who slept on the ground?_

Against all odds, Zelos had managed to fall asleep. A shitty, sweaty sleep. He'd dreamt about the dark day when snowflakes had collected in his hair. About his mother's last words as her fingernails had bit into his jaw and she'd smiled through the blood coating her lips.

About the shadows.

Zelos shook his head quickly to ward off those last two words. They always ate at him somehow and made his teeth grind. He took in a long, steadying breath and kept walking.

That night, Zelos hadn't woken up to bugs. He hadn't been attacked by Gaoracchia's famed spirits, either.

No, he'd woken up to Sara and whiskey. And he'd told her things, about the dark day, that he'd never said to anyone.

Had it been the whiskey? Possibly. _Probably_. But it could've just as easily been _her,_ and the way that her simple, slightly stupid way of talking to him had tugged forth his honesty like a frenzied, snarled fish.

In his entire life, she was undoubtedly the only attractive female that he didn't want.

Okay - let's be real. That wasn't _entirely_ true. It's not like Zelos didn't _want_ Sara - really, he'd bang basically _any_ attractive female if it were a remote possibility.

But there was something about this one. Something about _her._ She was _important_ in a way he didn't understand. And she was off-limits both romantically and sexually.

There weren't many women in Zelos' life who could claim the same. Maybe that was why.

Her claws were out. She hadn't taken them off for the better part of a day; she'd found a downed tree to use as a prop to perform push-ups against. She wasn't strong enough yet to solely use the ground. And even from several yards away, Zelos heard her harsh breaths. Saw her grimace. Watched the way her claws dug into the tree's bark, anchoring her still, as her withered muscles urged her upwards, against all odds.

The moonlight bounced off of the contours of her mostly-bare back. Sara wore only her athletic underbra, that ended halfway down her chest and flank. That gleaming grape-purple Exsphere hummed triumphantly from between her bunched shoulders.

Her breath caught. Zelos had been incredibly surreptitious about approaching her, but apparently that didn't seem to matter, because her umber eyes flashed as they flicked to his.

Zelos watched as she sank to her knees. "Does it hurt?"

"Like a bitch," Sara told him. Her claws scraped against the wood of the downed tree. "It's like my whole back is a big bruise."

His eyebrows raised. "That sucks, Sara."

"Yeah."

Zelos leaned his shoulder against a standing, far more fortunate tree. "What's it for?"

"Hell if I know," Sara grumbled. She ended up sitting on the log she had been push-upping against. Her elbows rested on her knees as she leaned forward and swiped at her brow. "They wanted my sister for the same thing. Guess there's something, eh, _special_ about us."

"Ah, yes." Zelos passed one hand through his hair. "Your sister was my bud's mom."

Sara's eyes thinned. "...Your 'bud?'"

"Oh, that's right." Zelos breathed a laugh. "Yeah, Lloyd and I bonded while you were gone. We're buds, now."

A few drops of sweat plunked from Sara's bangs and down to the earth. "Well, shit."

The Chosen grinned. "I'm not surprised by that reaction."

"Of course not." Sara got to her feet. She dragged the back of her forearm across her face. "You're pretty much - well, _me._ And the last thing Lloyd needs is to end up like us."

"Heh." Zelos' amused grin sobered slightly. "And how have we ended up, lovely?"

"Dried-out," she said succinctly. "Slightly alcoholic. Full of bullshit. Literally the opposite of everything I hope for that kid."

She started stretching her arms over her head and leaning side-to-side. Which gave him a pretty extraordinary show of her bare, toned stomach that by all rights should've boiled his blood - and furthermore should've been performed with much more modesty on her end. It was like she didn't care what he saw, and also knew he wouldn't care either.

He didn't. It mesmerized him. Zelos was really, really new to this whole 'just friends' thing. A virgin, really. _Ironically_. He hoped his expression somehow managed to hide the awkwardness that wanted to twist his mouth.

"Lloyd will be fine," he said finally.

Sara paused in picking up her shirt. "You think?"

"He's a bit of an idiot sometimes. But someone taught him well."

She gave him a cynical smirk. "Sure as shit wasn't me."

"No?" Zelos cocked his crimson head thoughtfully to one side. "I see a ton of similarities between you two. Just seems natural you had a role in his life."

Sara pulled on her v-neck shirt. When it eased over her head, she was frowning and wouldn't look at him. She winced, and he wasn't sure if it was from her sore back or a memory that popped up in her head. Probably the latter.

"He didn't say anything about us?" she asked quietly. "About how we met?"

Zelos shook his head. "Only that you were important to him."

"Should've known," she muttered. But she was smiling a little, warmly. "Too softhearted for his own good."

Curiosity flared brightly. That peculiar solemnity that darkened her gaze made him ravenous for information. "So… how _did_ you finally meet him, eh?"

She pursed her lips and glared at him from the corner of one eye.

"Come on," he pleaded, sinking pathetically back against the tree. "I've never known you to shy away from the truth, my Fiery Temptress."

And her sudden, frigid, dead voice made the back of his neck tighten: "About three months ago, I murdered four of my fellow villagers in cold blood in front of him. That's how we met."

Hmm.

That was not exactly the response Zelos had been expecting. And it only incensed his already-blazing curiosity.

"Why?" he asked.

She flinched again. "Why what?"

"What made you murder them?"

She'd been about to put on her duster. It now wrung restlessly in her hands. Zelos didn't know how she managed to avoid tearing the thing to shreds because of her claws, but it somehow came out unscathed. Several more seconds passed silently, where he continued to stare at the side of her freckled face and her pumpkin-orange hair.

"Too far?" he murmured at last.

"The shadows," she whispered.

Zelos' eyes flew open wide.

 _The shadows._

She wasn't looking at him, and had turned halfway around to face the distant woods. He was glad. Because he couldn't stop his jaw from dropping, or suppress the slithering obsidian tremble that crawled up his spine.

The world seemed to sway. Zelos had no idea why this was happening. Why just those two words had sped his heart and started to crush his chest. He started to feel trapped, panicked, like a cage had suddenly crashed down around him.

"It's the shadows," Sara went on. Her voice wasn't just her voice anymore. It was like she was narrating his own thoughts.

"They rise up."

His eyes slammed closed, now. There had been so many shadows, then. Shadows that he could remember churning beneath his feet, his leather boots that had crunched in the snow.

Shadows that first appeared on the dark day - when his mother's blood had painted all that snow bright red-

"They swallow me whole."

His hands curled into shivering fists. Zelos turned his head away, from Sara, from the memory, from the sharp smell of more blood.

Not his mother's, no. Not this time.

"They take over."

Someone had been screaming; Zelos had sent the shadows for that woman, that half-elf - that _asshole_ , that woman _Belinda_ who had slaughtered his mother in front of him. He was just a kid then. He hadn't known how - only that he'd flung out his arm and pointed at Belinda, at the murderess; the world had gone dark and she had slumped over at his feet, face-first into the snow. She hadn't been screaming any longer, then - that had been _him_ , all along-

"They make me want to kill."

The Knights had come for him then, gripping his arms, tearing him away. Zelos hadn't wanted to leave his mother. He remembered pointing at them, and then there was a bunch of clinking and thudding as they'd slumped over in the snow, too. All the while someone was still _screaming-_

"You know, Zelos."

The Chosen opened his eyes. Sara was standing right in front of him, but all he could look at were his own two feet, and the darkness that now yawned and bubbled beneath them.

"You _know,"_ she told him.

"I don't know anything," Zelos croaked. Which was both the absolute truth and a blatant lie.

"It's why you're- why you're like _this_ , isn't it?" She planted one palm on the tree beside his head. "Why the Church took you in. Why you were always taught to have _fun_." Then the other. "To forget what you can do. To never care about anything. Because when you get mad- when you break- you _kill_."

"You're fucking crazy," he choked. He shook his head so furiously it should've fallen off. The air thinned and couldn't make it into his lungs fast enough. "I'm the Chosen, I'm not a-a-"

" _Say it._ "

He couldn't. He wanted to shove her away, but she was standing in _his_ shadows, sharing in the darkness he had created. It was the first time he'd ever felt whole.

"Tell me what you are, Zelos," Sara hissed. Her face was right in front of his, and her eyes were turning black, and so were his own.

His hair ruffled in a nonexistent breeze. His skin heated, prickled, thrummed. He stepped forward, away from the tree, towards her, and said in a chorus of voices that didn't belong to him:

"What _we_ are."

* * *

A/N:...

Lyrics are "The Beginning is the End is the Beginning" by Smashing Pumpkins.  
Sara and Zelos' song. ;)


	45. Satis (Enough)

Chapter Forty-Five

 _Satis_

* * *

 _Looking at everything that I've lost, and almost everything that I've loved  
_ _I'll hold them all tightly in my arms, wondering where I am,  
_ _So please tell me where to go_

* * *

"Don't leave me," Sara begged of the darkness.

Now that she'd been reunited with it - now that Tethe'alla's Chosen had shown her the way back, however unwittingly - Sara couldn't stand to see it leave again.

The thrumming anger. The whirling chaos, the stinging fear - her soul felt empty without their presence. And it occurred to Sara that it had taken her this long - it had taken the absence of all she'd once considered a curse - for her to truly appreciate and honor, however unpleasant, all the shadows had gifted her.

" _Shut up_ ," Zelos spat. His hands flew to his head, where his fingers curled into all of that ridiculous crimson hair. "I'm not leaving. Damn it, I want to leave, but I _can't_ leave-"

"Not _you_ , gods," Sara countered. She started to smile. Her palms pressed against his shoulders, each one of her clawed fingers gripping into his back. "Cruxis took them from me. My demons. But you - oh, _you_ can share them with me again, Z."

"But I don't want this," Zelos gasped. "I don't want to _be_ this."

Her claws curled. Threatened to bite into into his flawless peach skin. "I know you don't. I didn't either. But it's who you are. Don't fight it."

"The Church said that s-servants of Niflheim were never human enough. Were a _curse_ -"

" _Fuck_ the Church. You're more than enough."

"Th-that they brought about the destruction of Tethe'alla during the Kharlan War-"

" _Lies,_ my friend. All of them."

Zelos hung his head. "I killed her, Sara. I know I did. The woman that murdered my mother. I killed her. That's not a lie."

"Good," Sara said resolutely. "She killed your mom. She deserved it."

But Zelos protested with a shake of his head. "The Papal knights, too. _Dozens_ of them. They did _nothing_ to me, and I killed them all." His breath caught. "I don't want to hurt anyone anymore. Not like that. Shit, I killed them so _easily._ "

"I know," Sara growled. "I know all about that. Remember what I told you?"

He managed to raise his eyes to hers. "How did they die?"

"You ever torn out someone's throat with your own hands and then laughed about it?"

"No." Zelos looked sick. He shook his head again. "I don't ever want to-"

"Then _listen_ to me," Sara urged. "You can't run from this. You can't ignore it. That will just make it worse."

Zelos barked a laugh. "But so far I've done an awesome job at that. Like you said - ignoring things has made me who I am. I just want to keep pretending. I just want a simple, happy life"

"Don't be stupid. Don't lie to yourself." Sara's hands slid up his shoulders, his neck. Into the hair along his temples, like they had a few nights ago, outside this same forest. "I know it's hard. But you've gotta fill your lungs now. Let the air in."

The Chosen was shaking in her grip and she knew exactly why. First nascent contact was unreal and delicious and utterly horrifying all at the same time. The earth beneath their feet simply _wasn't there,_ and had been replaced with a deep, bottomless void that still somehow allowed them to stand. It thrummed steadily, with a low, deep, nerve-numbing hum.

"Breathe, Z," Sara told him.

Zelos did. It was a raspy, strained sound. But it worked.

"Good. _So_ good." She smiled. "Do it again. Nice and slow."

His chest expanded. His exhale swam across her collarbones. She pressed her forehead to his. "It's hot, isn't it? The buzzing in the back of your head. The skin along your shoulders."

He nodded against her. "Burning. _Lava."_

"It's okay. Don't be afraid."

"Why should I-" The Chosen swallowed hard. "For all I know, you're just some Sylvarant psycho. Why should I listen to you?"

"Because you're nothing if you're not _me_ , Zelos Wilder."

He seemed to still, at this. And everything started to quiet. His breaths, his shaking; the vapid darkness beneath his feet eased into smooth, obsidian glass.

"Well I like you," Zelos said, although his throat seemed laden with a few other voices that were not his own. "A-and if what you said is true - I guess if I like you, then I like myself, right? No matter this… curse."

"That's the spirit," Sara beamed. "And it's not a curse unless you make it one."

She released him. She stepped back, her claws twitching at her hips, shoulders squared, eyes gleaming. "Breathe again, now. Make them leave completely. That's step one."

She watched his chin twitch to one side, and his hands crunch and quiver. But slowly, bit by bit, the verdant green grass beneath his feet reappeared and the yawning void vanished.

Sara sighed wistfully. Zelos sighed gratefully.

"That was nuts," he muttered.

"That was _awesome,"_ she corrected with a grin.

"I… think I'm me again," Zelos said slowly, peering down at his hands as he held them out before him.

"You never _weren't_ you. You did great. Really." Sara clapped him on the shoulder. "I was so berserker-crazy the first time, Kratos had to use healing magic to snap me out of it."

Zelos absently scratched at the back of his head. "Good to know there's a failsafe of sorts, I guess. Makes me feel a little better about all of this."

"I can train you some more. To where you can use the demons instead of fear them. It will just take a little time."

He smiled at her. He looked almost small and hopeful, childlike. "Yeah? You think?"

"I _know_. Shit, if _I_ can do it - anyone can."

That usual zest and charm seemed to bloom on his face again finally; it had been rather violently stolen from him in the past few important minutes. Zelos planted one hand on his hip and grinned. "I knew there was a reason I was drawn to you, lovely. Little did I know it would be such a-" He leaned forward and held one fingertip beneath her chin. "- _Fatal attraction,_ neh?"

"Aaaaand he's back." She snorted a laugh and bent down towards her pack resting nearby, only to fling its top open and brandish her flask. "I think this calls for celebratory demon shots. What do you think, Z?"

"You were right," the Chosen mused, just before he uncorked its cap. "You _are_ me. Cheers."

* * *

"I see they've found each other," Yuan remarked flatly.

Kratos hadn't heard the half-elf announce his presence, but was aware of it all the same. Four thousand years of growing accustomed to Yuan's mana signature and the stiff way he walked meant there was very little Kratos wouldn't notice.

"Indeed." Kratos crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes through the dark Gaoracchia trees. "Their true training can now commence. In fact, it's already begun."

A skeptical scoff. "Has it?"

"Look at how he's managed to subdue their influence, even at first contact. It's because of her instruction." Kratos smiled a little. A bit proudly. "The Chosen trusts her. As well he should."

Yuan stepped up beside him and remained silent. His close proximity made Kratos uneasy - the presence of Niflheim's demons mere meters away notwithstanding. Thanks to all the things he'd taught Sara, Kratos had grown rather accustomed to the underworld's darkness.

Yuan's angst, however, took an entirely different kind of strength to stomach.

"I can't believe _I'm_ trusting you with this," Yuan muttered. He gestured vaguely towards Sara and Zelos, who still stood in front of one another, now evidently sharing shots from a flask- "If they fail, you know what the consequences are. What will happen to Martel."  
"To be fair," Kratos countered, "you do not have much of a choice."

Yuan pondered this for a few seconds, lips pursed, before he said with a shrug: "I could kill Sara."

"Please, try." Kratos' garnet eyes flashed as they flicked to the side of Yuan's angled face. His right hand crunched around the hilt of his sword. "I could use the practice."

"Ever the heroic knight," Yuan sighed. And probably rolled his eyes, although it was hidden in lengths of blue bangs. "Don't worry your precious romantic heart, Kratos. I won't touch her. I'm too old and too tired to fight you anymore."

Kratos turned fully to face him now, thoroughly done with subtlety. "Then why are you here?"

"It's purple."

Kratos blinked. " _What_?"

"That Exsphere." Yuan's frown deepened. "It's purple. It's… _familiar._ I want to know why."

Kratos knew exactly why. However, he was not at liberty to say.

There were two very distinct ways that he could approach this situation, now. The first, and probably simplest, involved feigning ignorance and letting Yuan figure out the truth on his own. The second was honesty - which was out of the question.

But there existed an unnamed third option: neutrality. Kratos excelled at this. Really, it had been his favorite for as long as he could remember. Just hang back, and let reality continue unhindered.

"Where did Yggdrasill get that Exsphere?" Yuan asked him. His low, raspy voice was even more gravelly than usual.

"I do not know," Kratos responded. A lie. And a neutral one, at that. Best of both worlds.

"Bullshit." Yuan's palms crackled with lightning. "You're as much Yggdrasill's lackey now as you were then-"

"You don't know what you're talking about. As usual."

"Shut up." Yuan stalked closer. "You're lying, You're going to let them fail, aren't you? Let them get killed in Niflheim, so Yggdrasill will win. Then you'll wait around for someone else to fix all of _your_ problems-"

"I _love_ her, Yuan."

The lightning died. So did something in Yuan's face, which went from furious to a sort-of resigned, sad calm that was obvious even in the dim moonlight.

"I don't know how," Kratos continued quietly, "but I love her."

The air had gone still, whether by chance or Yuan's own doing; the half-elf had always been far more gifted with magic than Kratos ever would be.

"You told me you never would again," Yuan ground out. "You swore you never _could._ Not after Anna-"

"I was wrong."

Yuan simply stared at him for several moments, like he were trying to make sure what he'd seen and heard was actually real. Kratos didn't blame him. Three months ago, Kratos wouldn't have believed the words from his own mouth, either.

It didn't make them any less true.

"I held you that night," Yuan stammered, almost frantically. "You didn't move or speak for weeks. You were broken, Kratos. I washed her blood from you. It was caked in your _hair-"_

"My fingernails, too," Kratos added, staring down at his splayed, callused hands. "It took months to come clean. I thought more than once about simply cutting my fingers off." He slowly closed his eyes. "That would have been easier than looking at it."

Yuan paused, though the desperate glare he kept giving Kratos didn't waver in the slightest.

"How do you come back from that?" Yuan murmured unsteadily.

Kratos opened his mouth. A thousand reasons perched themselves on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn't speak. There was no simple answer here - particularly to _Yuan_ of all people. There was no clean-cut explanation to convey the process of overcoming all the hellish, vapid pits of grief.

There were, however, knock-down, _brutal_ emotional fights. More gut-wrenching awkward moments than Kratos could count. Unexpected confessions - equal his part and Sara's, beneath a thousand stars, on an Asgard rooftop, or a hill outside of what remained of Luin.

Stolen kisses beneath amango trees. Moments of sublime tenderness and raw humanity - of tan, smooth skin caressing his own that had made his back arch, his breath catch. Made his lips smirk against her neck, or his fingers curl into her fiery hair.

But before any of that - there had been patience, and compassion, and empathy beyond measure. There was the sight of her walking away when he wanted to hold her close, but couldn't - for one very important, unavoidable reason. The foreign tears in Sara's eyes as she'd smiled angelically through repeated rejection.

And a dragonscale amulet he should've never coerced from an old bald collector on Hakonesia Peak ('Screw him,' Sara had said. 'He's a damn _creep'_ ). That had not once, but twice, allowed him to touch her when some dark corner of his conscience had screamed at him not to.

All of these things had somehow condensed into a cluster of moments, of meaningful occurrences that had allowed Kratos to heal.

Not completely. _Never_ completely.

But _enough_.

Kratos slowly inhaled. His face was solemn, ancient. But he was smiling.

"I did not seek it out, or want it at all," he said easily. "I could never explain it if I tried. The only honest truth I can give you, Yuan, is that everything has changed."

Yuan gaped at him. It was pretty hilarious, really - the slight bulge of his eyes, the drooping of his jaw. But Kratos' own face remained completely steadfast.

"It has, then," the half-elf said finally. He was nodding slightly, resigned. "Yes, it has."

"I will not betray you," Kratos told him, "because I will not betray her, or my son. Never again."

Yuan laughed, now. It was a bitter, yet still somehow amiable sound. "And here I thought that after this long, Kratos, you could never surprise me again."

"I didn't either."

A cynical smile had started to crawl across Yuan's face - but faded abruptly into a vigilant scowl. His chin tilted as he cocked his head to one side. "Do you hear that?"

Of course he did - it was a rustling in the foliage nearby, and the faint clinking of armor. As well as a few footsteps. Without a word, Kratos drew his sword and walked purposefully between the trees towards its source. A flash of light burst behind him briefly as Yuan summoned his trademark double-edged butterfly blade.

Kratos shoved through a wall of branches, sword readied. He came nearly face-to-face with a large man donning shining, emerald-green armor, and half a dozen others that stood nearby - all armed with axes, hammers or swords.

The man's eyes weren't visible, but Kratos heard a stunned gasp just before he parried a blow from the axe. With the man's armor and the weight of his weapon, that strike by all rights should've sent Kratos flying; instead it sent the man sprawling backwards and bumping into a few of his comrades.

"You do not want to try that again," Kratos intoned silkily.

"The Papal Knights?" Yuan glared at them curiously. "Interesting. What are you doing all the way out here in Gaoracchia?"

"Wh-who are you?" one of them stammered.

"That is not your concern. Explain yourself."

Another one of the knights - this time in gold armor, probably signalling his status as the leader - now strode forward with an admittedly impressive amount of bravado.

"We are under direct orders from the Pope to follow and observe the travellers from Sylvarant and the Chosen."

"He shouldn't be called that anymore," the first knight spat distastefully. "No servant of Niflheim deserves the title of Chosen!"

 _Servant of Niflheim_ had been Tethe'alla's adoring label for demonic vessels for as long as Kratos could remember. Even as a teenager in the Knight's Academy, Kratos had been told tales of their evil, of how their very existence marred the earth itself and angered the gods.

All of this held true four millennia later. Some things never changed.

Kratos and Yuan exchanged a tense glance. These knights knew of Zelos' true nature now, apparently. Which meant that, shortly, the Pope and the King would as well.

This was certainly an _annoying,_ though unsurprising development. But in the grand scheme of things, the Church of Martel mattered little to either Kratos or Yuan's endgame. So of course, each seraph had an entirely different suggestion on how to handle things:

"Let's kill them all," Yuan said.

Kratos sighed. "That is unnecessary."

The knights stood still, in a metallic gaggle, their helmeted faces swishing back and forth between burgundy and turquoise heads.

"You know the minute we leave, they're headed back to Meltokio to deliver the good news to the Pope," Yuan countered.

"Let them," Kratos said evenly. "It matters not. To either of us."

Yuan growled under his breath. "But it's such a _bother."_

"The worlds have seen enough slaughter." Kratos sheathed his sword. "Let's not add to it today."

" _Fine."_ And Yuan's butterfly blade disappeared. He sneered at the statuesque, surely baffled knights. "If I were you, I'd keep what you saw tonight a secret. But do as you will." He whipped around, black cape flying. "You're lucky I have better things to do. You'll see me soon, Kratos."

Kratos sighed again. "I apologize for the… _intrusion._ " He turned around as well, after a slight, courteous bow. "Carry on."

The golden-armored knight took one step after them before apparently deciding better of it and coming to an abrupt halt.

"Who _were_ those guys?"

* * *

Raine considered herself rather small and light on her feet; the stairs leading up to Presea's porch clearly didn't agree. They groaned wearily; the rest of this ramshackle log house looked just as unkempt. Cobwebs floated in the corners. The roof was missing several shingles. And the front door itself wouldn't close all the way, because its frame had begun to lean gradually to one side.

Raine started to reach for the brass handle. Genis hissed her name.

" _Knock_ first," he whispered fervently. " _Jeez_ , sis."

Raine glared at him. But her knuckles rapped a few times against the door.

A few moments later, it opened. And Presea stood in the doorway; the first thing Raine noticed was the girl's unmistakable bubblegum-pink hair, and that eerie, faraway look in her blue eyes.

The second was an overpowering, gut-wrenching stench that made Raine slap a hand over her mouth and nose to hide her retch. Not long after, her brother did the same, though he instantly tried to hide it.

"What is that sm-"

" _Hi,_ P-Presea," Genis cut in pointedly, trying valiantly to smile. "We're back, and we brought your Key Crest. Can we come in?"

Presea didn't answer, and instead simply slid out of the way and opened the door slightly further.

Genis went in first. Raine watched him for a few seconds, momentarily stunned at his courage, before she herself managed to cross the threshold inside. There were a few more groaning footsteps at her back, and she heard another gasp - this time it was Regal's, and Raine couldn't tell if it was because of the sight of Presea herself or the smell that seemed to be peeling the skin from Raine's face. Steeling herself, she followed after her brother.

The air inside was heavy, thick. It made Raine's chest tighten and her throat swell. She glanced around the dingy room, equal parts curious and wary; sawdust and dirt created small clouds after each of her footsteps. In one corner sat a hefty wooden table; a half-made carving rested on top of it, coated in entropy and cobwebs.

Presea, as if leading them onward, walked purposefully towards a room to the left. Presumably a bedroom, judging by the dusty, untouched sheets on the bed at one end. No one had slept beneath its comforter in years.

Presea approached the other bed, in the far corner. Its sheets were more worn - and lumpy, like something was beneath them. But they were soaked through in parts, stained sickening hues of brown and green. Raine heard a peculiar hum; it took her a few moments to realize the sound was coming from the vast swarms of flies that had made their home on those same sheets.

And whatever - _whoever_ lay beneath them.

She stepped past Genis, who watched in utter horror as Presea made her way towards the same bed and proceeded to tuck in the rotting corpse beneath like it were simply a sleeping loved one. When she brought her fingers back, they were coated in a thin layer of death, though she seemed not to notice whatsoever. She made her way to a shelf and began absently arranging nonexistent books with seemingly mechanical, rehearsed movements.

"Presea," Genis croaked, one hand curling against his chest. "P-please, stop."

She ignored him. She ignored all of them, actually, and went about her business as if they didn't exist.

"Wh-what the?" Zelos stared at the girl. He took a few steps backwards, until he ended up against the far wall, eyes wide. "This is _not_ cool."

He started to breathe a little hard. He reached out one hand to his side, seemingly towards nothing; Sara sidled up to him instantly and took it, giving it a quick squeeze.

"Not cool at all," she agreed, meeting Raine's gaze with an uneasy frown. "How could this happen?"

"Is this-" Regal stepped up to the pink-haired girl. He looked white as a ghost. His normally withheld visage was now shattered, vulnerable. "Her behavior is caused by the Exsphere?"

"Most likely the effect of the Exsphere's parisitism," Raine agreed thickly. "Presea has no idea what's become of the person in that bed."

Lloyd slowly shook his head. And it looked like one of his hands wanted to go to his face and muffle the smell, though he forced it back down at the last moment. "We came just in time, then. This is… too cruel."

"Indeed," Regal muttered. "Cruxis' brutality truly knows no bounds." He approached Lloyd slowly; his thick, heavy boots made deafening clomps on the brittle wooden floor. "Lloyd. Let us release her from this fate. Please."

"R-Right." Lloyd nodded resolutely. One of his hands dug into his pocket, where he procured a small golden object wrapped carefully in white cloth. His mouth twisted. "But this… this is nothing like any Crest I've seen or made before. I don't have any idea how to attach it properly, really-"

Kratos now walked forward. No one else seemed to have the courage to do so. He paused in front of Presea. And for several seconds, the two of them simply stared at one another, with the small girl's dull blue eyes staring uselessly up into Kratos' hard garnet gaze.

Then, finally, Kratos reached out one silent, patient hand towards Lloyd.

"Wh-what-" Lloyd's voice couldn't seem to steady itself. He glared lividly at the seraph as much as he gaped in curiosity. "What do _you_ want?"

"The Crest."

Lloyd couldn't stop his teeth from gritting. "Whatever. You're just going to destroy it, or- or use it to steal her Exsphere."

Kratos sighed and lowered his hand. "If you insist - then at least allow me to show you how to ensure its proper placement." He quirked one eyebrow. "Unless you don't want it to work properly. Or worse, cause a harmful reaction."

Lloyd's eyes thinned. "Why should I trust you?"

"You do not have a choice."

Now it was Lloyd's turn to sigh. "You just _love_ saying that, don't you?"

Kratos shifted back to allow Lloyd a clear path toward Presea. "I merely speak the truth." And he gestured towards the girl, who stood motionless, staring past all of them and at the far wall.

There was a tense silence in which Lloyd was clearly waging a furious mental battle of sorts; no one spoke either for or against his decision, as if the importance of his choice were obvious to all involved.

"Alright," Lloyd decided. "What do I do first?"

Kratos immediately sank to one knee. "Presea. That is your name, right?"

"Correct," she replied instantly. Her voice was dead. Raine thought instantly that it sounded like Kratos' had once, back when he'd first joined their false Journey of Regeneration in Iselia.

"Hold still, Presea," Kratos continued softly. "Do not be frightened. Lloyd."

The teen instantly straightened his back and shuffled forward. "Okay."

"Each branch must touch her skin simultaneously. Otherwise, the mana reaction could be too unequal and violent. Your placement must be firm and decisive."

"What are…" Presea's voice was airy, innocently curious. "What is going on?"

"Trust me," Lloyd said instantly. "Don't move, okay?"

Lloyd unfolded the Crest from his palm. He took in a breath and held it. He tried not to look at Kratos, whose presence yawned beside him like a vast, bottomless void. And in one swift, unfaltering movement, Lloyd eased the Crest around the small red gem on Presea's chest. He drew his hand back instantly, like he'd touched something sacred. He stared wide-eyed at her rigid, pale face.

"What now?" he asked. Mostly to Kratos, although it was truly to anyone who happened to be listening and found themselves wanting to offer an opinion.

"Watch," Kratos told him.

Presea's eyes closed. The air around her small frame seemed to twist and shimmer. Both of her pink ponytails fluttered and swayed. And that Exsphere on her chest flashed brilliantly before settling into its original dull shine.

"D-did-" Genis couldn't seem to find his voice. But he started to grin. "It worked?"

"You did well," Kratos announced. "She is recovering."

All the breath rushed from Lloyd's chest. He started to smile. "Really?"

"Hello?" Presea blinked once. Twice. The opaque film over her blue eyes seemed to clear. Her tiny shoulders drew back and she stood up properly, straight, for the first time since they'd met her. Her head swayed from one side to another in a curious glance. "What are you doing in my house? Who are you?"

"I-I-" Genis was the first one to speak. It didn't amount to much. But it drew Presea's attention for the brief few seconds it took for her to also notice that unavoidable, awful stench.

"I'm Genis," he continued desperately, motioning for her to follow. "Let's go outside, okay?"

"What are-" Presea's head twitched. Her hands quivered. She stood still. And the look clear confusion in her eyed morphed slowly, excruciatingly into something lost and desperate. "I'm not leaving. This is my home. Where's my daddy?"

Genis uttered a choked sound and clamped a hand over his mouth. Regal's knees seemed to weaken; he leaned against the closest wall, pressing his shoulder against its wooden frame to remain standing.

No one said anything. That maggot-infested, fly-bitten corpse tucked into the bed behind Presea remained visible to all of them except Presea herself.

"Kratos," Lloyd churned out, from someplace deep in his throat. "What do I do now?"

"Tell her the truth," the seraph said instantly.

Lloyd's eyes closed. He forced himself to stand up straight. Then, he smiled brightly.

"My name is Lloyd. I'm a friend." He held out one hand. It hovered just in front of Presea's face. "A lot has happened since we've met each other. Will you come outside and let me explain?"

She stared at it curiously, her head cocking to one side almost comically, thanks to her poofy pink pigtails. She didn't take it, so Lloyd dropped his hand.

"My daddy," Presea repeated. She turned around.

Lloyd's stomach dropped. Genis hissed a rarely-spoken curse. Both Kratos and Regal simply stared at the girl as she slowly, deliberately lifted up the stained sheets against the corpse's face. A new swarm of flies rushed into the air, flitting into the shadows, unwittingly snaring themselves in the cobwebs along the ceiling.

"D-daddy?" No one could see Presea's face. But her voice began to shatter, like plains of land during an earthquake. She drew the covers back further. She looked at her fingers, marred by stains of something that had once been blood, before they curled into a pair of furious fists. "Wh-what… what have I been _doing?"_

"Come outside," Lloyd repeated. "Please."

She didn't hear him. The sound that leaked out from her throat was quiet at first, timid. It strenghtened, as her mouth cranked open, and her eyes slammed closed.

She screamed.

Genis didn't know what he was doing, only that it was necessary. He darted forward. He hugged her, easing his hands onto each of her tense shoulders. And he pressed his forehead into her back.

She didn't jerk away, or act uncomfortable at all. But she stopped screaming.

"I'm Genis," the younger Sage repeated. "I uh, know a l-lot of tricks with my kendama. C-can I show you?"

Her breaths were heaving, tearing through her tiny chest. Tears streaked down her pale cheeks. Bit by bit, they both calmed. And she stopped looking at her soiled fingers.

"Hello, Genis," Presea croaked. "I think… I would like that."


	46. Scelus (Crime)

Chapter Forty-Six

 _Scelus_

* * *

Many years ago, Noishe had learned to fly.

He remembered how. It's just that his body didn't. He was meant, now, for power and loyalty, and striding across the land with endless endurance. He was meant for friendship, and protection, and kindness.

Unfortunately - none of these things were nearly as quick or efficient as flight.

So while his nose worked far better than the dragon's, and he had much better hearing - she still could fly. She was blind without his guiding snout, though; Noishe, rather reluctantly, admitted he had to depend on her wings to bring him back to The Boy as quick as possible.

The dragon was resting on her golden belly, her head lying on her clawed hands, her wings tucked against her sides. Her great spiked tail swished back and forth across Tethe'alla's thick, verdant grass. The sun lent a silver sheen to her royal-purple scales. And the edges of her lips curled up towards buttery-amber eyes as she smiled at Noishe.

Noishe had never known a dragon that could _smile_. He whined curiously. His ears pricked as he tilted his head to one side.

The dragon's wings fluttered. She twitched her horned head backwards, towards them.

Noishe whined again. Was this dragon really suggesting that he _fly_ on her? An impatient grumble rumbled in Noishe's throat. If only she knew how many times he'd soared the skies, how he used to have feathery, gorgeous wings just as graceful as hers-

The dragon crawled closer. Blinked. Her tail swished some more.

Resigned, Noishe hung his head. And his friend let out an excited squeal as he slowly, gingerly climbed up her massive arm and shoulder and settled himself into the space between her wings.

You know - once he was here, it really wasn't that bad.

Noishe barked. When the dragon growled back at him, he felt it rumble up his paws and into his chest. He howled; she roared. And together, they took off into the sky. Noishe was panting happily the whole time, his fur gleaming, his ears flapping in the wind.

* * *

When Presea finally came outside her front door, it was the first time Lloyd had let himself breathe properly. Not just because of the smell. But because of that _scream_ , and the tears that had fallen unstoppably down her face.

He wished he could unsee the look in her eyes as she'd first gazed upon her father's corpse. It reminded him far too much of himself, and when he'd learned the truth of how his mother had died. Just this terrible, swirling hurricane of anger, fear and disgust. All the worst things.

Genis had really stepped up. He seemed to have a strange connection with the girl, despite his overwhelming, smothering awkwardness. She responded to his simplicity. His uncomplicated encouragements kept her anchored to reality in a time that couldn't have been easy for her. She had yet to say how she'd gotten herself into this situation, or how long she'd been here. Lloyd realized it might take her awhile to finally admit the truth.

Until then, he was just thankful for Genis and his kendama, and the deliberate, robotic way Presea ineffectually attempted to play with it. _Like this,_ the younger Sage kept saying. _You just have to practice. It took me years!_

"He needs a proper burial," Sara said to all of them. It earned her a few questioning stares. "We can't just leave everything like… like _this_."

They all stood on Presea's front lawn. The very same spot Sara had first been taken by Rodyle just over a week ago. Except for Genis and Presea, who were just slightly away, to avoid any potential kendama-related injuries.

"Shouldn't we ask her first?" Raine suggested.

Sheena grimaced. "I don't know if talking to her about it would be the best thing to do right now. Let's let her be distracted for a little while longer."

"I'll be the first to admit I know nothing about Tethe'alla," Sara murmured, shuffling her feet. "But Ozette… it just feels really similar to Kozei. And burial rites are really important to us."

"You're right," Sheena confirmed. "Having been to both Kozei and Ozette, I can vouch for their similarities. I've seen many ceremonial graveyards here. Mizuho has a similar custom, actually."

"Then let's start digging," Lloyd said at once. An array of metal tools sat propped up on the front porch, including a couple of rusty shovels; he picked one up and turned back towards the lawn, where the thick canopy of trees had parted just enough to illuminate a small patch of grass. "How about right there?"

"But how are we gonna…" Zelos gestured back inside, frowning distastefully. "I mean. There's not much left _to_ bury, if you get my drift."

There was a queasy silence between all of them. The thought of going back into that house for any reason made Lloyd decidedly uncomfortable, much less removing decayed remains from a rotting, fly-infested mattress-

"I will handle it," Kratos murmured. He wasn't looking at any of them, and instead stared stonily out into the distant trees. "Prepare the grave site."

This honestly surprised Lloyd - as well as Sheena, Raine, Regal and Zelos, apparently, judging by the stunned glances each of them now gave the seraph. Why would Kratos voluntarily want to involve himself in something so morbid? Lloyd's brow furrowed as he tried to think up some sort of sleazy, two-timing reason.

But really, in this case - there were none. And Lloyd didn't want to admit it, but Kratos almost looked like he had offered because he felt… guilty.

As well he should. All of this was Cruxis' fault, anyway.

Sara reacted a bit differently than the others, though. She seemed to be avoiding looking at Kratos altogether, almost on purpose. But her expression wasn't surprised at all. Just solemn and empathetic.

"I will help you," Regal offered quietly. He jangled his shackles once. "These hands have already been used for far worse things."

Lloyd instantly wondered what that meant, but now was not the time to ask. They parted ways. Sara sat down on the porch's front steps, looking sick and exhausted. Sheena and Zelos picked up another pair of shovels and joined Lloyd on the front lawn. But he wasn't much use at first; he stood still, frowning thoughtfully, glancing over one shoulder at Kratos' straight, elegant back as it disappeared into the foreboding darkness beyond the door.

* * *

"I would like to help."

Presea's voice had been so soft that Lloyd had barely heard it. He set down his dirtied shovel, dragged the back of one arm across his sweat-coated forehead, and turned to face her.

It was the first time she'd spoken since coming outside.

"May I borrow your shovel, please?" she asked. Her gaze was locked firmly on the half-buried remains at the bottom of the grave.

Lloyd stared at her for a few seconds, stunned, before smiling and offering her its handle. "Of course. Here you go. Let me know if you need any help."

"That will not be necessary," she said quietly. "But thank you, Lloyd." And along with Sheena and Zelos - who for a moment seemed to hesitate in their own shoveling, but then returned a moment later - Presea began to bury her father.

This allowed Lloyd to step back for a moment and take a break on the porch. Regal was still inside, cleaning up… things. Raine and Genis (hopefully more of the latter) were nearby preparing a meal for everyone, since it was nearly time for dinner and they'd all been working hard to help Presea.

And then he saw Sara and Kratos.

The seraph's back was to Lloyd. He was walking up to her slowly. She was saying something to him; they were too far away for Lloyd to hear, but the expression on her face was tense and morbid. And Lloyd quickly saw why - Kratos stood a bit awkwardly, with his arms held out laterally, careful not to touch his sides.

Because that crisp blue and white fabric of his suit, from his hands to his elbows, had been stained with that corpse's leftover purulence.

Lloyd's eyes widened and he grimaced. Kratos paused and stood still as Sara approached him. The seraph backed away a little, obviously wanting to avoid touching her in this state - who knew what germs now crawled all over his forearms? Cruxis undoubtedly needed their precious test subject disease-free.

But Lloyd saw her shake her head and then motion for him to follow her across the yard, towards a small pond with clear water. It took him a few seconds, but he did.

Once they got there and stood on its shore, Sara turned around and said something else to him. It might've just been the light, or the angle, but it looked to Lloyd like her eyes were glistening with tears. She reached out to Kratos and started to deliberately undo a few of the belts at his chest. Kratos immediately shook his head in apparent protest; Sara frowned and said something else. He didn't protest again.

And Lloyd watched, equal parts fascinated and unsettled, as Sara somehow systematically removed the upper portion of Kratos' suit, so that only a simple, dark blue undershirt remained. Seriously - how in the _hell_ did she know how to work all those belts? Maybe in Welgaia, she was forced to fold angel-laundry or something?-

After that, she dropped the top of the suit into a pile beside her feet, careful not to touch any of the soiled sections. Once that was finished, it allowed Kratos to remove his matching blue fingerless gloves, which then joined the top half of his suit in the pile. The pale bare skin of his forearms and wrists was still dirty. Sara dug through the pack at her hip and procured a small object wrapped in brown wax paper - a bar of soap. And she unwrapped it and let it fall into his offered palm.

She said something to him one last time before she brushed past him and started walking towards Lloyd, her head down, her face rigid.

Lloyd's gaze flicked back and forth between them. Kratos was now kneeling before the pond, washing both his arms and his suit clean. Sara silently sat down beside Lloyd on the porch, rested her elbows on her knees, and breathed a long, heavy sigh.

"He smelled like shit," she muttered.

"R-right," Lloyd managed. He hoped his blatant skepticism had somehow been hidden behind that word and his terrible smile.

There was nothing he hadn't infallibly trusted Sara on so far. But the way she spoke of Kratos; the way she looked at him, and never seemed to shun his presence… it just didn't add up. Someone who had intentionally captured her, betrayed her and tortured her should be, in her rather hotheaded and often murderous eyes, worthy only of cursing and death.

Which meant she shouldn't be helping him _wash his clothes_ , of all the _crazy_ things-

Lloyd wanted to speak, but stopped quickly. Sara's face twisted and paled a little. He heard her swallow hard as she pressed one hand against her stomach.

"Uh. You might want to leave me alone for a minute, kid," she grumbled.

Lloyd's eyebrows raised. "What? Why?"

"This Exsphere. Sometimes it makes me-" She didn't get to finish. She leaned over, away from him, and promptly threw up in the grass.

Lloyd grimaced, but at the same time eased one hesitant, slightly-awkward hand onto her back in some probably-lame attempt at comfort.

"One time," he began, managing a small smile as she hiccuped and retched beneath his palm, "I stole some of my dad's beer from his ice chest. I think I was like, fourteen? I hated how it tasted, but I did it just because he always told me I couldn't have any. I wanted to prove him wrong."

"What-" She slapped a hand over her mouth. Swallowed again. Then let out a breath. "What happened then?"

"I drank _seven_ of them within an hour. Just one after the other. I've never thrown up so much in my life." Lloyd's nose wrinkled. "Never again."

Sara huffed a laugh and patted his knee. "So proud of you right now, kid."

"I thought you might be."

* * *

"Lloyd is watching you," Sara had told him.

"I know," Kratos answered. He frowned when she started coming closer, and took a step back. "Don't, Sara. Your immune system is compromised."

"I don't give a shit. Someone has to help you." She shook her head, and she turned around slightly, towards the pond a few meters away. She waved him forward. Kratos sighed and followed her.

"Why did you do it?" She asked him, her umber eyes scanning intently over his soiled arms and hands.

"It was the least I could do. Cruxis ruined that girl's life-"

"You are not Cruxis. You didn't do anything to her, Kratos."

"I did," Kratos countered quietly. "I was complicit. Inaction is just as grievous of a crime."

"It is for me, too. It's why I did what I had to at Kozei. Why I protected Lloyd at the Tower of Salvation. And it's why I'm going to do this."

Kratos didn't know how to argue with that. So he just watched as she started to unbuckle his suit.

"He's starting to question this," Kratos murmured. "He's starting to notice."

"Good." She pulled off his suit. "Let him." She dropped the bar of soap into his palms. And she walked away.

* * *

It didn't take long for Noishe to smell something familiar.

It wasn't The Boy. Or The Man, or the Almost-Woman, either. But it was one of the humans who had traveled with them, that The Boy had protected and felt important. The _Chosen._

That information was enough to warrant an investigation. Noishe barked once to his flying dragon-steed.

Iona rumbled an agreement. Steam hissed from her nostrils as she began her descent towards the earth in slow, gradual circles. Noishe was sort of glad; it was easier to breathe down here. His lungs now, while bigger than his last form, weren't meant for elevation. His tongue lolled out of his mouth happily as they landed.

Before them stood a wooden trellis and a host of humans wrapped in dark, near full-body coverings. Only their eyes were visible. At their sides were thin swords, or swift daggers, or small metallic stars. Noishe hopped off of Iona's back and sat down beside her as the humans whispered and spoke among one another. After a few seconds, one of them, clad in an outfit of steel-blue, slowly strode forward. He didn't seem afraid; Noishe was kind of impressed, since Iona wasn't exactly _small._ Although her purple scales and bright golden underbelly kind of toned down her intimidation factor.

"A… _dragon_?" The human sounded breathless. His eyes were dark and wide. "There has not been a dragon in these parts in… centuries."

Noishe barked. Was he _invisible?_ Come on.

"And-" The human stopped dead just a few meters in front of them. Iona's wings ruffled, and her horned head tilted curiously to one side as the human studied Noishe with a pointed intensity. "It can't be."

Noishe barked again. A little happier this time.

Apparently this was a good enough answer, because the man now doubled over in a deep, reverent bow, his hands and arms held stiff at his sides. "I have only heard stories. O-of both of you." He paused. He seemed to recognize something suddenly. "Sheena and your other companions are not here currently. You… must be here for the Chosen girl?"

It was Iona's turn to speak now, as a low, short grunt eased its way up her long throat. Her tail swayed to one side before flopping up and down a few times. After all, she knew and cared for the Chosen girl, too.

A few of the humans shrank back, seemingly in fear. Noishe whined at them curiously. Such skittish things.

"Wait here, please," the man continued. "I will bring her to you."

He bowed again. Iona did, too, as she raised up tall onto all fours, and then intently lowered her head between her front paws. Her wings flared wide, their flaxen scales catching the setting sun and gleaming brilliantly. The remaining humans simultaneously breathed 'oh's and 'ah's.

Okay, so Noishe kind of missed having wings. He whined again and poked his nose into Iona's elbow to make her quit showing off.

The man in blue was leading the Chosen girl forward. Noishe instantly thought that she felt remarkably _hollow._ He remembered her full of sunshine and sky. Now there was only grey. Beside him, Iona immediately stepped towards her. The man in blue barely had time to back up before the Chosen was wrapped swiftly in the leathery confines of Iona's wing. As a rather unnecessary warning, the dragon hissed at the other humans; they backed up a few steps, stammering to one another. Noishe sighed in exasperation.

Then he focused all of his attention on the hollow girl. His ears pricked. He sniffed the air a few times, and slowly raised from his patient sit to approach her. All the mana in her body had simply _stopped._ She was frozen in time; she had on a pendant, though, that wanted desperately to restore her to the living world. But its charms weren't enough to undo the effect of that crystal at the base of her neck.

A low hum began deep in Iona's throat. Dragons were just as sensitive to mana as Noishe had ever been. She urged the girl closer to Noishe with a gentle shove of her wing. He whined once more, as he touched the tip of his nose to that pendant.

His eyes closed. He filled his giant lungs, then emptied them, along with some of his own mana. It rushed into the pendant, heating it, making it glow. Noishe had plenty to spare; the pendant carried The Boy's signature, too. Which meant it didn't take much for Noishe to get it working again. He and The Boy were always very in-tune, after all.

A few seconds passed. Noishe noticed that the Chosen girl's eyes started to change, from a dull red into their normal, sapphire-blue. Her chin tilted to the sky. She inhaled, seemingly for the first time. And her fingers extended, then flexed into a fist, then relaxed at her hips.

Noishe whined happily when she sank one tiny hand into the hair at his neck. The other one reached out and pressed against Iona's scaly shoulder. The dragon purred in contentment, which made the Chosen giggle.

"Oh. H-hi, guys," she said. She was smiling so big and bright. "I'm back."

"That you are," a new voice said from behind them. Not any of the humans from the nearby village, no. Noishe recognized this voice. He turned around to see a familiar black cape, red and gold armor, and a head of long blue hair.

"Do you remember me, Chosen?" the Second Man asked, stepping forward.

Colette's eyes widened. "Oh, um. Sort-of. Everything was a bit fuzzy there for awhile. You're… Yuan, right? From the Renegades?"

"Correct. Do you know where you are?"

The Chosen took a quick look around, biting her bottom lip in thought. "It's someplace very… green."

Yuan slowly closed his eyes. "Well, you're not wrong. At any rate - I've been waiting for Noishe and Iona to find you. Now that you've been reunited, and returned to your normal self - I can take you to Lloyd."

"R-really?" Colette grinned. Noishe wagged his tail furiously. "Thank you, mister Yuan!"

"Just _Yuan,"_ the half-elf grumbled, swirling away in a sway of his cape. "'Mister' makes me feel old."

* * *

"Thank you for assisting me with my daddy's burial," Presea told them all, one hand on her axe. She'd arranged her father's own axe as a sort of headstone near the top of the freshly-laid grave on her front lawn.

"Of course," Sheena said, smiling. "It was Lloyd's idea in the first place. We all pitched in to help." She sent a strange, hesitant look to Kratos, whose sleeves were now thankfully devoid of any stains. "Some of us… more than others." And the seraph, expectantly, did nothing.

"I've been a great burden on you all," Presea murmured, staring down at her feet. "Please accept my apologies for allowing Colette and Sara to be captured."

Lloyd's eyes widened. "You remember?"

"Yes. ...Mostly."

"Why do you have an Exsphere like that on you in the first place?" Genis asked. "And how did you end up tangled in the Angelus Project?"

"I wanted to save my sick daddy." She turned around slightly, and her gaze settled on the grave with an almost unsettling calmness. "I wanted to learn how to wield an ax, so I could work in my daddy's place and support my family. So I was introduced to a man named Rodyle and taken to the Research Academy in Sybak for experimentation."

"Rodyle," Sara muttered wrathfully, crossing her arms. "If I ever see that sniveling bastard again, his head is _mine_." Zelos was beside her, and nudged her arm in both encouragement and support. She nudged back and nearly shoved him off his feet. He pouted and rubbed his arm pitifully.

"Altessa was involved in your experiments. The dwarf," Raine said. "He was the one who helped us forge your Key Crest. He mentioned… not wanting to be 'involved' with you again, Presea."

The girl sighed; it was an ancient sound, far too old to have come from her small lungs. "Yes. It was thought that his skills would help the Angelus Project succeed faster. Therefore Cruxis ordered the Pope to recruit Altessa, in order to carry out my experiment."

"Cruxis?" Raine repeated, surprised. "So Cruxis has the Pope in their back pocket, as well?"

Almost audibly, every eye in the group now zeroed in on Kratos. Who seemed exceedingly skilled at pretending none of them existed, as he continued glaring into the distance.

"Care to explain that one, neh?" Zelos smirked.

"It is widely known that the Pope is rather corrupt," Regal offered instead. "Aligning with Cruxis merely seems natural for him, unfortunately. I doubt even the King knows of this."

Raine sighed. "I suppose I should learn to stop being surprised at this point. Is there anything that Cruxis _doesn't_ have their hand in, truly?"

"No," Kratos stated factually. "You would do well to remember that should you choose to oppose them."

The Professor quirked one slender silver eyebrow. " _Them?_ Not _us?"_

"Sophistry," the seraph scoffed, with a flippant flick of his bangs.

"Presea," Genis cut in, "you said you had other family. Can we help you find them?"

"I… have a sister," Presea began, as if just recently remembering this for herself. "Alicia Combatir. She works for an aristocrat in Altamira."

Zelos' jaw dropped. He immediately looked at Regal, whose face remained a frigid, stony mask. Sara was the first one to notice this, and glanced back and forth between the two men curiously.

"Alicia," Zelos murmured. His expression of shock fell into one of discomfort. "Then you wouldn't know-"

"Let us travel to Altamira, then," Regal announced at once. "And we will investigate this matter fully. My company has a shipping harbor not far from here. We can secure transportation from there." And he turned away, frowning slightly, towards the woods, apparently done with all conversation.

"Are you certain?" Presea asked quietly. "I've already caused you so much trouble."

"Dwarven Vow number two:" Lloyd began with a grin, "never abandon someone in need."

"Well just to make it official: welcome to the group, Presea!" Genis beamed, holding his arms out to his sides in an enthusiastic, grandiose gesture. Presea simply nodded. But that was enough for Genis, who just grinned wider.

They'd all begun following after Regal. But the wind picked up abruptly, rustling the thick canopy of trees in an eerie, rattling howl.

"Wh-what's that?" Sheena stammered, staring wide-eyed up towards the sky.

Lloyd opened his mouth to ask a similar stunned question; nothing came out, but his jaw hung gaping as the trees parted - and a giant, winged dragon pushed its way through the thicket of branches, sending leaves and bits of wood flying every which way. He reflexively stumbled backwards to give it room to land, nearly knocking over Genis and the Professor, who managed to keep him upright.

The light here was still a little dim, so it took Lloyd a few moments to recognize the dragon's colors - royal purple, shining gold. There were two figures riding on its back. It took him a little bit to recognize them, too. Particularly because one of them - the blonde one, not the bluenette - looked different than he last remembered.

Her eyes were _blue_. And they started watering uncontrollably as she slid down off the dragon's back, shouting Lloyd's name, sprinting towards him open-armed with all the grace of a flailing fish. Predictably, she stumbled at the last moment and ended up crashing into him rather than hugging him. But he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

"C-Colette?" He pushed her back and held her at arms' length, huffing disbelieving laughs, unsure of whether to cry or smile. "You're… you're _you_ again? How did-"

"Your present!" she blurted cheerfully, fumbling for the pendant beneath her holy tunic. "Noishe made it work!"

"Noishe? But he's in Sylvarant-" Lloyd felt a little lightheaded. So many things were happening at once. The others started to come up around the two of them, shouting and exchanging their own overjoyed reactions to all of this. Colette held onto his hand for as long as she could until she was stolen away by Sheena in a hug that made her wince a little through her permanent grin.

Lloyd sat down in the grass and held one hand to his head. He heard something off to his right, and turned to look at it just in time to see a furry silver head and to receive a long, sloppy lick to the entire length of his face.

"H-hi, Noishe. Can you tell me - is this really happening?"

He received a jolly whine in response. Lloyd slid his arms around the creature's neck and choked a laugh into his fur.

"Oh, good," Lloyd murmured breathlessly. "I was hoping you'd say that."

* * *

"Your Majesty."

The King of Tethe'alla had a thick, plush, wine-red blanket in his lap. It was a bit cold today; his castle was kept at a comfortable seventy-three degrees at all times (assured by hosts of astute servants), but the King's own daughter had insisted on the blanket simply as a precaution, and he was not one to turn down her wishes.

The King smiled softly, just a slight upward press of his sunken mouth. He was not an invincible lad anymore, try as he might. His daughter seemed to delight in reminding him of such. And the blanket was soft enough, made of long slivers of fabric that wound around his bony fingers-

"Your Majesty?"

The King raised his gaze and finally let it settle on the small, round man standing before him. The Pope's face was grim.

"What is it?" the King asked tiredly.

"The travelers from Sylvarant. We have been following them."

A bearded frown. "Did I not instruct the Chosen to do as such?"

"Forgive me, Your Majesty-" And this was accented with a half-bow and a quick adjustment of the Pope's forever-askew hat. "Your judgment on the matter is sound. I simply wished to provide an additional level of security. And I have discovered something most… disturbing."

The weary creases along the King's brow and behind his eyes deepened. "Elaborate, at once."

"It appears that the Chosen himself is-" The Pope had to pause here, like the words were making him sick. "...A servant of Niflheim."

That blanket now curled into the King's withered hands. "How have you come to suspect this?"

"My Knights witnessed peculiar things. Things described in the ancient texts - of the servant who creates darkness, and calls forth the shadows of the underworld. The Chosen was seen doing this in front of one of the travelers from Sylvarant."

A hushed murmur whispered through the grand hall. The King now sat up a little straighter in his seat.

"You speak of sacrilege," the King said thinly. "The Chosen is the very face of the Church. This truth would shock all of Tethe'alla."

"I understand, your Majesty," the Pope scowled. "But the reports my Knights gave were unmistakable. Therefore I seek your counsel on how to proceed further."

The King wished dearly that he could return to his bed for an afternoon nap - although that was now clearly impossible. He thought deeply for several moments; the silence in the hall felt deafening and heavy.

"Do not let this information go public. I forbid it. Bring the Chosen before me. I must see this with my own eyes before I will believe it."

"As you wish, sire."

Slowly, the King rose from his throne. "Should it turn out to be true - the title of Chosen will be stripped from him and given to his half-sister. The public does not need to know why. Only that the Church has commanded it."

The Pope nodded. "A most wise decision."

"After that…" One of the King's aides immediately helped him walk towards his private chambers. He glanced back at the Pope with a steely, firm frown. "Kill him."

"Understood, your Majesty."


	47. Semper (Always)

Chapter Fourty-Seven

 _Semper_

* * *

 _So open up my eyes to a new light  
_ _I wandered 'round your darkened land all night  
_ _But I lift up my eyes to a new height  
_ _And, indeed, there will be time_

* * *

Iona didn't like Yuan much, either.

Sara hadn't expected otherwise. No matter her encouragement in the contrary, the young dragon already had an obvious distaste for Kratos; ever since they'd first met, Iona had been on edge around him. Always shuffling from one paw to another. Always with a lingering growl at the base of her long throat. Of course, now that Sara knew the truth - it undoubtedly had something to do with his status as a seraph.

This held true for the Renegade leader too, apparently. Iona fairly slammed her chin into the grassy ground while simultaneously shoving her rear end up in the air and tucking in her wings. As a result, Yuan tumbled rather ungracefully from her back, and only barely managed to keep himself upright and dignified.

He shot a glare back at the dragon with a swift, sharp flick of his ponytail. "Ungrateful beast," he murmured. Then widened his eyes at a blur of orange, tan and teal as Sara darted past him and threw her arms around the base of Iona's neck.

"Oh, gods," Sara choked into the dragon's shoulder. She was immediately wrapped securely in one wing and met with a series of low, thrumming purrs - beautiful music to her ears. She grinned against Iona's scales. "I c-can't believe you're here. I didn't think I'd ever see you again. How are… how'd you get here?"

Iona raised her horned head and pointedly stared at Yuan.

" _Really_?" Sara asked, quirking one skeptical eyebrow.

Yuan scowled and crossed his arms. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not the bad guy here."

"Says the man who at one time tried to assassinate Colette-"

"And then went through hell to save her _and you_ later on? Please, keep finding ways to argue with me. I assure you, you won't win."

Kratos sighed. The look he now gave Sara reminded her of a resigned, exhausted parent to a rebellious toddler. "He's right. You're better off just letting it go."

Sara pursed her lips as she absently scratched beneath Iona's chin. She glanced quickly at the others - the Sages, Lloyd, Sheena, Zelos, Regal and Presea, who stood a few meters away out of earshot, all gathered around Colette, completing introductions.

"Yeah, I know," Sara said quietly. "You always _were_ masterful at winning arguments, Yuan. Even four thousand years ago."

Now it was Yuan's turn to quirk a curious eyebrow. "Kratos told you many things in Welgaia, I see."

"No." Sara's expression softened. She took a few steps towards the half-elf, who continued to stare at her skeptically.

She had to deliberately stop herself from continuing the rest of the way towards him. The gem on her back pulsed and heated, though its glow remained hidden beneath the collar of her shirt - almost like it were urging her forward, telling her to get closer.

"Kratos didn't tell me anything," Sara admitted. Bit her bottom lip. Then forced out: "She… told me herself."

Something shot through Yuan's terse expression then - a flickering shadow. His jaw tensed. His brow furrowed. And his voice was low and frigid as he asked:

"Who?"

"You don't need to ask me that," Sara muttered. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't already know."

For several seconds, the half-elf simply gaped at her. His hands curled into shivering fists. It looked like breathing became a near-impossible task. Sara watched the play of emotions on his graceful face: shock, a little bit of sadness, waves of nausea…

Then nothing but _wrath_.

Yuan whipped his glare to Kratos, blue hair flying. "You son of a bitch. You lying son of a _bitch-"_

"Not here, Yuan," Kratos commanded sternly, with a slow, deliberate shake of his head. "Not now."

But he stalked up to Kratos and paused just in front of him, teeth gritted, breaths heaving, palms flickering. "Tell me why I shouldn't incinerate you right now, you sniveling _bastard-"_

"Calm yourself," Kratos hissed. "Would you have gone along with this plan if you had known the truth?"

"Of _course_ not!"

" _Exactly."_ Kratos stood up tall, godlike. Using the few inches of height he'd always had over Yuan to his utmost advantage. "Our goals are still the same. Our plans are still in motion. Nothing has changed."

"For _you!"_ Yuan spat, slicing one hand lividly through the air. "This changes _everything_ for me!"

Sara closed her eyes. "Yuan."

Something about her voice drew the attention of both men, anger be damned. She was frowning. Her freckled face looked sunken, ancient as she stood guarded by Iona's wing.

"Didn't you ever wonder why Mithos' attempts to revive her never worked?" Sara asked cautiously. "Why the best result he ever got was never fully compatible?"

Yuan scoffed a bitter laugh. "Because his worthless scientific theories concerning mana signatures are motivated by _lunacy?"_

"No," Sara told him. She inhaled, spread her shoulders, and said, at last:

"He needed to match her with another demonic vessel, Yuan. Martel was a vessel, too. Just like me. It never worked perfectly because Mithos never knew that."

* * *

"Okay, let me try this one more time."

Colette's face scrunched up in thought. She pointed to the small, pink-haired girl in the navy blue dress. "Presea."

"Correct," the girl intoned factually.

Colette's finger slid a few inches over towards the tall, muscular man in the shackles. "Regal?"

"Indeed," was the stolid response.

"And…"

"The one and only Chosen of Tethe'alla," Zelos cut in with a grin, slinging one arm around Colette's tiny shoulders. "Or 'The Great Zelos,' to my hunnies. We Chosens have to stick together, yeah?"

"Oh," Colette peeped. Then grinned back at him and nodded fervently. "O-of course! Let's be friends! It's so nice to meet all of you finally."

"Things have… _changed_ since you've regained consciousness," Raine told her, with a slight frown. "The new additions to our ever-expanding group are only the tip of the iceberg."

"I saw… Kratos was here," Colette said, her brow furrowing a little. "But he's wearing a funny outfit. Oh, and he's not trying to kill you."

" _Yet_ ," Genis murmured caustically. "It's probably only a matter of time. Once he gets that Exsphere off of Sara, there's no telling what he'll do to the rest of us."

"Um." The Chosen girl's trademark, sheepish smile. "Why does she- Where did she- What?"

Gradually, all gazes converged on Lloyd, who kept absently running one hand through the thick hair at Noishe's neck. The teen sighed heavily.

"I guess… I never explained the truth to any of you," he murmured. "About her and Mom. Not fully. There just hasn't been time."

Sheena was beside him, and gave his shoulder an encouraging nudge. "We're not going anywhere. Start anytime."

"Yeah, bud," Zelos added enthusiastically. "Whether or not you want us, you're kinda stuck with us now."

Lloyd smiled, relieved, and nodded. "Okay. Yeah. Well, I can't explain it alone."

* * *

Yuan's jaw dropped. His turquoise eyes flew open wide. He managed to stammer the first syllable of _what?_ He stared at Sara, replaying her last words over and over in his head, simultaneously wanting to rip out her tongue and make her keep talking.

Fortunately, he had to do neither, because she continued on her own:

"Kratos was the only one of you who knew the truth." She kept absently running a hand along the strut of Iona's wing. "Martel didn't want anyone else to know. When you and Mithos weren't around - Kratos helped her figure out how to control it. It's how he knew how to train me, too."

Yuan threw his glare to Kratos, who expectantly said and did nothing in return. Which, for him, might as well have been a confession.

"Th-this is-" Yuan held one hand to his head. He felt utterly lost. Floundering, drowning, stumbling backwards. "I c-can't believe-"

"I suggested that Mithos place her Exsphere on Sara," Kratos elaborated, "a known demonic vessel - simply to see if the results would differ. It has never been tried before. And at this point, Mithos is willing to try anything. He remains unaware that his sister had this trait in common with Sara."

"And now we're here," Sara concluded tiredly, with a sigh. Then a cynical smirk. "And I'm being eaten alive on the off-chance that this thing can be turned around and be used to stop him."

It had been a long time since Yuan had felt anything close to _overwhelmed._ Anger - sure. Grief - always. But this crushing panic? This sensation of freefalling from a cliff headfirst?

A very, _very_ long time.

"I don't believe this," Yuan announced. His voice was unsteady, churning. He shook his head furiously. "Then what was the point of the Chosen's Cruxis Crystal?"

"The Journey of Regeneration was meant to create an empty _angelic_ vessel," Kratos said, crossing his arms. "In contrast, the Exsphere now on Sara is meant to create an empty demonic vessel." His stoic features softened slightly. He dropped his gaze to the grassy ground. "Essentially - to eliminate her soul, and directly replace it with Martel's."

"I don't believe this," Yuan echoed through gritted teeth. "You're lying. That can't be hers. She _never_ would've kept that secret from me-"

"You liked to dance with her," Sara cut in. Her tone hovered barely above a whisper, but it shut him up just fine. "You always led with your left hand."

Yuan's breath slammed to a halt. His chest burned. He blinked away something that had probably been tears, but told himself no, the world just grew foggy for a moment. At his sides, his hands crushed into shaking fists, threatening to snap the bones in his fingers-

And without a word, he whirled around and began walking away, into the forest.

Kratos started to follow him. "Yuan, wait. We need your help to-"

" _Stay away from me."_

Yuan vanished in between the trees. There was a brief flash of light - then, he vanished entirely.

Sara sagged against Iona's arm and tried to smile at Kratos. "That went about as well as I expected."

"He'll be back," Kratos stated evenly. "We still have plenty of time."

Sara sighed and slowly closed her eyes. "I hope so," she murmured.

"Look at me, Sara," Kratos demanded in a steadfast growl.

She did. He was bristling, electric - full of a foreign life and surety that was so different than when she'd met him those few months ago, when he'd still been a shell, a husk. Her skin prickled and twitched as a shiver seared down her spine. He took a step forward like he wanted to approach her, but stopped himself and instead simply stared hard into her gaze.

"I will not let anything happen to you," he promised. "You will make it through this. Trust me."

Iona seemed to rumble her own agreement. Sara smiled again; this time it was real.

"That's all I've ever done."

"Sara?"

She looked towards the new voice; dulcet, full of hope and life. Lloyd was grinning at her, his face beaming, his bright russet eyes wide and joyful as he trotted closer. "Come on. I still need to _properly_ introduce you."

He glanced warily at Kratos, as if asking unspoken permission. The seraph narrowed his eyes a little, but made no motion or statement in the contrary.

Sara took Lloyd's offered hand and squeezed it. "Lead the way, kid." And she glanced back over her shoulder once, at Kratos, before following after his son.

* * *

"I remember when we went to Luin," Raine was saying, "back in Sylvarant. And you told all of us that your sister had been taken and killed by Kvar, just like Lloyd's mother."

"Yeah," Sheena said, eyes-wide. Their ragtag group sat in a haphazard circle on the grass, with the campfire in the center, and dinner served on plates and bowls. She lowered her spoon back into the stew bowl resting in her palm. "I guess neither of you knew at that point, huh? That your sister and Lloyd's mom were the same person?"

"Not at all," Sara said softly. The flames swayed as she stared at them; she breathed in slow, welcoming their warmth against her too-thin skin. "Kvar captured and killed a _lot_ of different people in his shithole of a lifetime. I just thought it was a coincidence."

"I have only heard tales of the declining world's Human Ranches," Regal said with a frown. "I suppose I did not realize how… _personally_ you all had been affected by them."

"Exspheres truly are… abominations," Presea added, passing her fingertips over the gem at her chest.

"I made a decision that day," Lloyd said, squaring his shoulders and peering down at the back of his left hand. "To use my mom's strength to help me stop more Exspheres from being made. And we stopped Kvar. Sara and I, and-"

He paused. He opened his mouth to keep speaking but closed it quickly. His eyes slid off to one side, towards the shadows created by the nearby trees; the moonlight slid through them just enough to silhouette the hilt of a sword and the edges of a spiky, dark-red head of hair.

As if he knew Lloyd had been looking at him - which was entirely possible; who knew what kinds of powers the angels truly had? - Kratos met his gaze, his sharp garnet eyes flashing.

Lloyd's first instinct was to look away, or pretend like nothing had happened. He didn't, though. He stared straight back.

"And Kratos, too," Lloyd finished. "We… couldn't have done it without him."

" _That_ guy?" Zelos snorted, thumbing over one shoulder. "Mister Creepy Broody Stalker-Angel? You're telling me he helped you avenge your mom?"

"I almost threw my Exsphere away," Lloyd went on, finally relocating his attention to the Chosen. "Kratos helped me see that I should keep it. So I can fight for her cause and stop Cruxis from creating any more victims."

Zelos pursed his lips. Then smirked. "Seems a bit counterproductive to the ol' Cruxis cause, if you ask me. I seriously doubt he's one of Yggdrasill's favorite 'employees.'"

" _Humph_ ," the seraph grumbled from the shadows.

"Oh, my," Zelos intoned, pressing one hand dramatically to his chest. "How intimidating. I'm positively _trembling_ in fear."

Lloyd let out an exasperated sigh. "Anyway. That mission is why I wanted to help you, too, Presea."

"And why I volunteered to go with Rodyle," Sara added. Her voice dropped low. "I'll be caught dead before I watch anyone else end up like Anna."

"I… don't know how I can ever repay you," the pink-haired girl said timidly. "I am in your debt."

Lloyd smiled at her. "You don't owe us anything. And tomorrow, we can help you find your sister, too."

Regal had been stirring his stew. He stopped abruptly, then continued on undeterred a moment later.

"Thank you very much," Presea told them sincerely.

"So we went to Dirk's house before the Tower of Salvation," Colette said slowly, obviously trying to put metaphorical puzzle pieces together in her head, "and that's where you found out the truth, Sara?"

"When I saw Anna's grave, I knew. There's only one Anna Irving." Sara's voice started to thicken; she paused to take a deliberate breath. "I knew Anna had a son, but I never knew his name. And I thought… he'd died with her. So finding out Lloyd was not only her son, but _alive,_ well…"

She breathed a watery laugh, then reached for Lloyd's wrist and gripped hard with her bony fingers. "I knew then I'd do anything for him. As long as it meant he'd be safe. He's the only family I've got left in this world."

A tense silence settled over the group. Colette's eyes started to glisten. She looked down at her hands as they wrung in her lap.

Lloyd set his jaw. His eyes closed. He bowed his head before leaning over and pressing it against Sara's shoulder.

"I'll always protect you," he vowed. "No matter what, I'll protect you this time."

"Stubborn as shit, this kid," Sara muttered against his hair. She nudged his head up, then sniffled and forced a grin. Her free hand touseled his wild brown bangs. "Runs in the family." He pouted and halfheartedly attempted to dodge her hand.

"Through Sara, you will be able to get to know your mother. You're very fortunate, Lloyd," Raine offered. Her normally-steely expression faltered for just a moment as she dropped her gaze to her boots. "As morbid as it sounds, at least _something_ good came out of our ill-fated 'Journey of Regeneration.'"

"And you met me," Zelos interjected ceremoniously. "Of course."

Genis rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, _of course."_

Lloyd gradually stood up. He had one hand resting in the right pocket of his pants; his expression was a mix of something solemn and hopeful.

"I'll be back in a little bit," he announced. "I think there's something I need to read."

* * *

Kratos should've known better.

The temptation was too much, and the task far too easy; he merely had to hide in the numerous trees, silent and unseen, in order to watch his son read Anna's last words.

When it came to her - and her endless brown eyes, smooth hair, graceful smile - Kratos _always_ had a hard time arguing.

This was no different. Even fifteen years after her death and scrawled hastily on a pad of creased sepia paper. Her mere words called to him, and he was once again powerless to resist.

Lloyd brought a small lantern with him and ended up sitting on a log at a respectful distance from the others; in this regard, Kratos and the boy were rather alike. Solitude, at times, became utterly necessary.

From this angle, Kratos couldn't see Lloyd's face; only the top of his head and rigid shoulders. What he _could_ see was the letter that Lloyd removed from his pocket and simply stared at for what felt like forever before he managed to unfold it. And even when that was done, it became obvious that he couldn't bring himself to look immediately, either. His chestnut head was pointedly turned to one side. It looked like the paper was shaking a little. Kratos thought he himself might be, too.

What had she told Sara back then? How had Anna spoken of him, of their life? She always was a swift, quick-witted speaker; this had probably originally been reflected in her penmanship, but now looked a bit hard to imagine in Sara's rather childish handwriting. It occurred suddenly to Kratos that she and Lloyd probably had poor script in common. Unexpectedly, the seraph surged with pride and gratitude.

 _Sis, I need you to be strong right now. I need you to listen to me. Please._

There was just enough light from both the moon and the lantern, and just enough aid from his angelic abilities that Kratos could read everything from this far away. In any other situation, he undoubtedly would be able to read faster than Lloyd.

Not right now.

The message went on for a little while, explaining the dire circumstances of their last few days. Kratos curled one hand into a fist before it flattened against his chest, like he were trying to hold in his flailing heart.

He remembered every second. The fear in her eyes. The thunder; the biting smell of wet earth. The way Lloyd had called for her through the rain-

 _It hurts so much that I can't talk to you anymore. But I have to do what is best for my son._

Always. Lloyd had _always_ come first. To both Anna - and now, her sister. The paper started to shake more. Lloyd's shoulders twitched and shivered.

 _I know my Hero will keep us safe. He always has. Please don't worry._

Kratos slammed his eyes closed. He sagged back against the bark of the tree. His fingers curled firmly into the fabric across his chest.

What a lie that had been.

 _No matter what happens - no matter if they catch us, or we have to keep running forever - this has all been worth it. This quiet, simple life has been worth it. The happiness that my Hero and my son have given me is more than I could ever ask for._

"M-Mom," Lloyd choked. "Oh, dammit-" It looked like he covered his mouth with one hand as he shook his head. He started to drop the paper, but fumbled for it at the last second, nearly falling off the log.

It took a few seconds for him to steady himself enough for Kratos to continue reading. It took a few more seconds for Kratos to make himself look down again, too.

 _My only regret is that you weren't here with us to share in it. I can only pray that you've found your own happiness, and that you never, ever let it go.  
_ _I love you always and forever. Thank you for everything.  
_ _Please don't ever forget me.  
_ _Sissy_

'My only regret.' In the ten seconds it took for Lloyd to re-fold the paper and return it to his pocket - Kratos had read that line a billion times.

Only. Regret.

Lloyd had been worth. Kratos had been worth it. Their chaotic, terror-stricken life had been worth it.

Her death had been worth it.

Lloyd stood up, finally. He wiped his eyes and raked a hand through his hair. He took in a long breath and held it, before letting it burst forth in a rush.

"Okay," he said softly. And though Kratos couldn't see it, he could hear the boy's smile. "I was worth it. I can't argue with you, Mom. What you say goes."

Kratos looked up to the stars, through the swaying branches, and smiled.

He and Lloyd had that in common, too.

* * *

A/N:

...

Grief can unite us. :)  
Lyrics are "There Will Be Time" by Mumford and Sons


	48. Beta (Second)

Chapter Fourty-Eight

 _Beta_

* * *

It had been a long time since Yuan had wielded a knife.

In four thousand years, Yuan had killed _a lot_ of people. Mainly by proxy through his Renegades - or en masse, from a well-placed, effortless summon of lightning. Magic? Absolutely. His giant butterfly blade? Every chance he got.

Knives, though. Yuan saved them only for the most _personal_ tasks.

His palm was so sweaty. He could barely keep hold of the leather-wrapped hilt. His heart hadn't beat right for hours; it felt tight, suffocating. Heavy. He had to fight to bring air into his lungs; his chest heaved as it crashed into Sara's back. The back of her orange head ended up resting on his shoulder almost affectionately, if not for the wild, frantic spread of her earthen eyes and the shivering silver blade he held deliberately against her pulsing carotid artery.

In some corner of his labyrinthine mind, he knew this wasn't right. He knew he'd come unhinged.

But Yuan had accepted a long time ago that he would never again be sane or whole. This just seemed fitting.

Sara had been dead asleep when he grabbed her and dragged her away. She clearly had not expected this whatsoever; Kratos had been her protector, her vigilant guardian now that she was stripped of her defenses and barely more than a sack of skin and bones.

But Kratos was off in the woods, stalking his son. Kratos should've known better. Kratos wasn't here now.

Yuan was.

He pressed the blade into the quivering skin of Sara's throat. "Prove it."

She swallowed; the movement of her larynx just barely opened her skin. She held her hands up beside her hips in surrender and tried futilely to meet Yuan's frenetic eyes.

"Prove w-what?" she croaked.

"That it's _hers_ ," Yuan seethed into her ear. "Prove it."

Sara's eyes started to close in something that was probably resignation. Almost an acceptance. Yuan watched, teeth gritted, nose wrinkled.

Either she was lying or she was right. He wasn't sure which one would be worse.

"Your favorite song was _Gardens of Night,_ " Sara managed breathlessly. "An instrumental ballad. You used to dance to it with her, in the forests outside the capital, when they played it for the King's gatherings."

No. _No._ Yuan's hand crunched into Sara's hair and craned her head back further, until her neck threatened to snap. "Kratos could've told you that. Not good enough."

"Your hair w-was almost as long as hers," Sara rasped, "and she used to give you shit for looking more graceful than she did when you twirled-"

" _No_. Kratos could've _easily_ overheard any one of our conversations. Try again."

"Oh, shit," Sara panted, squeezing her eyes shut in concentration. "She used to l-love the way that you braided her hair for her, even though y-you sucked at it."

"I…" Yuan blinked. "I never learned how to properly-" He growled and shook his head against hers. " _Anyone_ could've seen that!"

"Yuan, _please-_ "

"You don't have your precious demons now, you _coward_ ," Yuan spat with a sneer. He purposefully adjusted his grip on the knife. "Tell me why I shouldn't slit your throat for _lying to me_ -"

"Sh-she wanted two kids with you!"

The air left his lungs in a tremulous, uncontrollable rush.

"A boy, a-and a girl," Sara went on. When she blinked, fresh, hot tears streaked down her face and ended up being absorbed by the shoulder of his cape. "She wanted the girl to be named Selene, after your grandmother. And the boy Lucien, after your brother."

Yuan dropped the knife. It impaled the earth just beside his foot.

He shoved Sara away from him like she were poison, just as his own legs gave out and he crashed to the ground, one hand splayed over his face. The other curled into the grass and held on in a desperate, albeit futile attempt to stop the world from spinning.

That was his grandmother's name, yes. As well as his brother's, from all those years ago. Yuan had never opened up much about his family; Martel, though, had always had a way of coaxing the truth out of him, of turning painful memories of loss into something to be celebrated.

Only Martel knew those names.

But the part about her wanting two children?

"Oh, gods," he breathed.

...Yuan hadn't known that part.

He wished the earth would just come up and swallow him whole - drag him all the way down, through crunching dirt and slicing bedrock and blistering lava, into the hell that had become his home. "Oh, gods," he repeated listlessly.

To his immense surprise, Sara didn't call for Kratos, or summon her stupid dragon, or try to attack Yuan whatsoever. She simply joined him on the grass, crosslegged, like they were merely two old friends sitting beside one another.

"I didn't want this, Yuan," she said unsteadily. "I didn't want _any_ of this, dammit. But it's mine now, and I can't forget it, even if I _wanted_ to-"

"She never told me," he was muttering in between his fingers.

He heard Sara swallow hard. "Never told you…?"

He kept hiding the rest of his face in his half-undone hair. Strands of it stuck to his sweat-slicked forehead. His voice kept coming forth of its own accord; there was no stopping it now:

"She never told me she wanted kids. I always did. No matter how bad things were. But I never had the courage to say so."

Yuan heard some fabric rustling and felt a slight tug at his shoulder. He managed to open one eye. Sara was using the edge of his cape to wipe at the small trail of blood from the cut he'd left on her neck.

"You should've," she murmured. "She would've jumped your bones then and there."

And Yuan made a sound then that he was positive he'd never made before in his entire life - a ridiculous, loud, completely ungraceful snort-laugh. Botta would've given him _so_ much shit. Martel, too, probably. Yuan tried to muffle it into his palm. It didn't work very well.

"Shut up," he said, contrarily.

The hand that wasn't against his face glowed white for a moment as he waved it at Sara dismissively. She let go of his cape as her broken skin glued itself back together. Her hands dropped into her lap.

"Apology accepted," she smirked.

"Shut up," he repeated.

"Do you understand what we have to do?" Sara was trying valiantly to be kind and approachable, although it came off like she were speaking to a child. "We have to break all the Summon Spirit pacts now. The tech and the resources of the Renegades would help so much. Will you fight with us?"

"I don't know," he admitted truthfully. His entire reality had gone all to hell in the past two minutes. _I don't know_ felt like an understatement. He couldn't really stop thinking of anything other than what his kids would've looked like. What color hair they would've ended up having; would it have been like Lloyd, and come out a combination of both parents? Or maybe one green, and one blue-

"If this works," Sara was saying quietly, her eyes trained on Yuan's gold and red boots, "you might get her back, Yuan. I thought that would be motivation enough for you-"

"I don't _want her back_ ," Yuan snarled. Though it faded quickly at both the realization of what he'd said and the _you're-full-of-shit_ glare Sara was giving him. He sighed and forced his thoughts into a straight, neat line.

"I just want her to be at peace," he mumbled. "That's all."

He heard footsteps not too far behind them. Felt a familiar mana signature - not as old or cracked as Kratos, no. And not nearly as unstable or steadfast as Mithos had always been. But familiar nonetheless; it had been in Yuan's presence quite often, particularly in the last few years. It was tinged with sepia and gold at its edges - although its depths swam with a peculiar, pulsating darkness.

Right now, though, it seemed a bit unstable and heavy, like laden clouds threatening an imminent thunderstorm.

Fitting. Currently, Yuan's own wasn't much better. And Zelos probably knew this.

He threw a glance back over one shoulder and frowned at the Chosen, who paused just behind him with a pointed, scathing look on his face as he peered down at both his demonic counterpart and Yuan.

"The hell are _you_ doing here?" Zelos asked him. Tendrils of candy-red hair flew across smooth cheeks and narrowed sky-blue eyes as he threw a furtive glance at Sara, who was still idly rubbing at her now-healed neck.

"Apparently I arrived late to the party," the Chosen announced deliberately, drawing his dagger-

" _Chill_ ," Sara said quickly. She held out one hand in an offering; without missing a beat, Zelos helped her stand. "It's almost dawn anyway. Time for training. We'll be leaving soon."

"But why is this loser-"

"Lesson one: don't ask unnecessary questions." She grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him after her. Though the last of her gaze remained on Yuan, with a sort of sad empathy that made him want to shout his disapproval - although he couldn't whatsoever. Because, really, he deserved it.

"Let's go," Sara grumbled to Zelos.

Yuan held the Chosen's stare for a few dark seconds, until he disappeared among the trees. And the seraph probably should've gotten to his feet. Probably should've re-done his ponytail and cleared his throat and disappeared to his headquarters just like before.

But instead, he just kept sitting on the ground.

"I would've picked those names, too," he said to no one. No one at all. "They'd be perfect."

* * *

Raine had thought that the pressing darkness against her chest would've faded when she awoke from her dream. It had been a weird one - flashes of Sylvarant, and washtubs, and creepy smiling collectors on top of mountains… Not exactly things Raine found pleasant.

But when she sat up in her bedroll and inhaled a lungful of damp pre-dawn air, her chest still felt heavy. Something not far had cut a boiling, slithering hole in the earth's mana, and made the ground shake a little as her palms pressed into the grass.

It felt familiar. It felt like Niflheim. Which was odd, because as far as she knew, Sara couldn't tap into her demons right now due to Cruxis' Exsphere.

So where exactly was this coming from?

Raine frowned, glanced at her still sleeping companions, and stood up. And she headed towards the disturbance silently, staff in hand, indigo eyes narrowed.

Although they flew open wide a moment later when she parted a few branches and saw, of all people, Zelos Wilder standing impossibly over a great, yawning hole that had opened up beneath his feet. His long crimson hair swayed constantly in a nonexistent breeze. His hands were extended out on front of him, palm-up. Sara was holding them both. She was saying something to him; though quiet, her tone of voice was almost scholarly, and left no room for argument:

"The voices come all at once. They're so loud at first. Do you hear them?"

Zelos nodded. His graceful face looked tense, caught up in a grimace. His eyes were closed in concentration. "They're so… _angry._ There's… so many screams and shouts. I can't understand anything."

"Yet," Sara said, smiling a little. "Just try. Focus on one at a time. And whatever you do - don't forget to breathe."

Instructions. Suggestions. Almost like Sara was _training_ him?

"The second vessel," Raine breathed, equal parts awed and terrified. "Zelos is the second-"

She thought she'd been whispering. She thought she was far enough away that she wouldn't be heard.

She was wrong.

Zelos whipped around to face her. He dropped Sara's hands. His eyes were wild, full of a swimming inky blackness; there were unnatural, dense shadows hovering along his collarbones and up under his jaw. His hair flickered like liquid fire.

Raine did not recognize this creature. It had Zelos' face and wore his clothes, but what was inside of it just now was so far from anything familiar. She found herself wishing, absurdly, for him to crack one of his trademark flirtatious smiles and comment on how he found her attractive.

Instead, his lips peeled back from inhumanely long canine teeth, and he took a step towards her.

"Raine," Sara hissed, immediately stepping between Zelos and the Professor. "Get out of here. _Now._ "

"What is going on?" Raine asked, her gaze flicking back and forth between them. She refused to move; the tip of her staff began glowing as her fingers tightened around it. "When were you planning on letting the rest of us know about this, Sara?"

"When he's _ready,"_ Sara spat, pointedly pressing her palms against Zelos' chest to stop him from advancing. "Which, as you can see, he's _not._ Breathe, Z. Come on."

"A-alright," he managed. His hands had been curled into fists at his sides; they now relaxed. His eyes closed as he filled his lungs. "I'm cool. It's cool. I just… _really_ hate being snuck up on."

Raine's grip didn't ease in the slightest, but she nodded. "Noted."

"Please don't say anything," Sara sighed, raking one hand through her hair. "Remember what Yuan said back at the Renegade base? Tethe'alla's really weird about this demonic stuff. It's important we keep this on the down-low." She nudged Zelos with her elbow. "For his sake."

The gears in Raine's mind churned to life at a blistering pace. She held her free hand pensively to her chin. "Then this means we can access Niflheim at will. We have both vessels and the Book of Mists."

Zelos frowned at Sara. "The what?"

" _Dammit,_ Raine," Sara growled, exasperated. "Haven't you said enough for one morning? Shit, I still haven't even had my coffee…"

One edge of the Professor's mouth pricked up in a sarcastic smile. "Apologies. I figured that would have been the first thing you told him about."

Zelos quirked one eyebrow at Sara expectantly.

"Okay, fine," Sara began, her shoulders slumping. "So there's this book that can let us both enter Niflheim together. And we can potentially battle and get rid of our demons permanently."

"And you have it?" Zelos asked, crossing his arms.

"Yeah," Sara murmured. "Since Sylvarant. Back then, I wanted nothing more than to be normal. So I took the book on the off chance I might someday find another person like me."

"Well, you did," Zelos said tersely.

"But-"

"Don't you think I want to get rid of this? When were you going to tell me?"

"Again: when you're _ready_." Sara fearlessly met his challenging glare. "If we even could go in now, you'd never make it back out. And neither would I. Not anymore. It's not even an option right now, so I didn't see the need to mention it."

" _Seriously_ , Sara?" Zelos scoffed a bitter laugh. "You didn't think it would be nice to let me know there's a way I can have a normal life?"

"It's a cop-out."

" _What?"_

"I learned to live with it and use it. So can you. Getting rid of it is a cop out."

For several seconds, Zelos simply stared at her. Raine had to give him credit; she'd never seen the Chosen look as deep in thought or as, well, _human_ as he did right now. It was almost like he were an actual _person_ , rather than a walking libido.

"You're crazy," Zelos said finally, "and I'm leaving." And he did, turning away from both women and stalking into the trees.

Sara rolled her eyes and scrubbed her face with her hands. "Great. _Great._ "

Raine shrugged with effortless nonchalance. "I take it you've had a rather rough morning?"

"Oh, you have _no_ idea."

* * *

Kratos walked a bit taller now.

Sara was not far; he could sense her with Zelos, so Kratos felt no great urge to meet up with her again to verify her safety. When (more likely _if)_ he got some semblance of a private moment, though, he was going to have to thank her for writing that letter for Lloyd. It had provided both Kratos and his son a measure of closure in an otherwise morbid, unsettling situation - one that had lurked at the back of both their minds for some time.

The only thing left for Kratos to do, now, was somehow figure out how to tell Lloyd that he was his father.

No big deal.

Kratos headed back towards camp through the trees, thoroughly caught up in this rambling train of thought. Maybe if he dropped enough hints, the boy would figure it out on his own? Kratos frowned a little. That probably wasn't the best option. His son was not known for his powers of observation. That method left too much room for interpretation. (Kratos could hear it now - 'You're my brother, right? Or my cousin? Or…')

However the reveal went down, it absolutely needed to happen after Sara was healthy and Exsphere-free. This whole situation alone was more than enough drama. Adding 'oh by the way I'm your father, and I'm also in love with your aunt' would probably make both Kratos and his son simply die of awkwardness. Tact and patience were key, here. Kratos sighed heavily and kept walking. He smiled slightly, though.

The sun had just started to crawl over the distant horizon when he saw Yuan, sitting hunched over on the ground surrounded by grass and a few bushes that his hair almost matched in hue thanks to the early light. Kratos stopped walking. Yuan made absolutely no motion to acknowledge his presence whatsoever, and instead kept staring down at the few blades of grass he had resting in one palm as he idly arranged them into something resembling a square.

"I'll do it," the half-elf said.

Kratos blinked, and waited patiently for elaboration.

"Don't expect me to join your group and follow you around. But you have the Renegades," Yuan continued. His voice was strangely hoarse. "Whatever you need, just ask. I'll do it."

Kratos nodded, though it went unseen. Something important had clearly happened here; in time, perhaps he could discover what-

"I almost killed her," Yuan offered. He gestured vaguely to a small knife that had been impaled into the grassy earth. "I was going to slit her throat because I didn't believe either one of you. And then I could just go about my business like before."

The muscles in Kratos' jaw clenched, but he didn't move. "What changed?"

"Did you know Martel wanted children?"

Kratos felt all the air leave his chest. There was a tree just beside him; he leaned one shoulder against it.

"No," he said quietly. "She always said how Mithos was more than enough for her."

"She was lying. She wanted kids with me. She-" Yuan's voice broke. He dumped the grass in his palm back to the ground and flung it away like it were stinging him. "She had _names,_ for gods' sake _._ "

Slowly, Kratos closed his eyes. A dark, bitter remorse clawed at the inside of his ribs, like a creature frantically scrambling to escape. "Yuan-"

"You're a lucky sonofabitch," Yuan chuckled, finally rising to his feet. He dusted his hands off on his pants, yet continued facing the other way. "But then again, you always were. You have two pieces of Anna left, and one loves you back." And here, he finally slid his gaze to Kratos; his aquamarine eyes were vibrant and glistening and more than a little unhinged.

"You have a second chance," Yuan told him. "Don't waste it."

He started to walk away. Kratos held out one hand.

"And now you do, too," Kratos said sternly.

Yuan only barely saw the offered appendage out of the corner of one eye, but it made him pause. He stared at it warily for what felt like forever.

"I'm not holding out hope," Yuan muttered.

"Of course not," Kratos countered, with four millenia's worth of certainty. "Hope is a fool's errand."

A grin shot across the half-elf's face like a crack through glass, followed by a resigned, tense laugh.

"Yes," Yuan agreed, and took the offered hand in a quick, firm shake. "Yes, it is."

* * *

"I'm sorry, sir, but there are no ships departing today."

Regal stared flatly at the dock attendant as his broad back straightened. He cleared his throat. "Perhaps you misheard me - these are _my_ ships. I would like one prepared for departure to Altamira, at once."

The dock attendant, who looked half of both Regal's age and his size, gestured one spindly arm to the continental harbor, where literally every dock seemed to have a ship currently housed in it. "No mishearing here, sir. The stay order has come directly from the King himself. Received it this morning. Something about monsters being in the water."

"Monsters," Regal repeated skeptically. "In the Sea of Altimira?"

"Listen, I'm just the messenger. If you've got a problem, take it up with the King… sir." And with that, he went back to his clipboard and shuffled away, his thick rubber boots squeaking against the slick concrete floor.

Regal Bryant was not used to feeling helpless. In fact, being president of the largest corporation in Tethe'alla, there were few things in his life that he'd never had control over. Slowly, he turned around to face his companions like a prisoner facing the gallows.

"It would appear I can do nothing," he murmured. "My apologies. The King's orders are final."

"Then what are we going to do?" Presea asked, glancing up at the others with a frown. "How will we get to Altamira?"

Colette's delicate face scrunched up in thought, then instantly brightened. "Oh! Um, what about those flying thingies? I can't remember their names - Ray-aides? Roy-yards?"

"The Rheiards," Genis corrected enthusiastically. "We could go get them! It would sure make travelling a whole lot faster."

Lloyd shook his head. "Yeah, but they don't have any fuel, remember? Not unless we can make a pact with Volt."

Sheena looked down at her feet. "Well, uh… If that's really what you want-"

"May I make an observation?" Kratos asked evenly.

Regal's gaze slid to the seraph, who stood like some sort of golden-belted stone statue meant to embody stoicism. Kratos was never impolite, or jarring of any kind. But something about him seemed permanently _off_ to Regal; Kratos was, in fact, perhaps the only person (if that's what he could truly be called) who Regal was unsure of how to approach. So the President just cleared his throat and forced a nod.

"If you insist," Regal ground out.

Kratos then aimed his cinnamon gaze pointedly at Lloyd. "Why are you here?"

The boy seemed to crumple for a minute, then just as quickly summoned his fiery inner strength as he squared his shoulders. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why have you come all the way to Tethe'alla?"

Regal's eyebrows lifted. He was pretty interested to hear all of this, too.

"Well, I-" Lloyd paused and scratched at the back of his chestnut head. "I wanted to save Colette."

"You have accomplished your goal, then," Kratos went on, swaying his eyes to a smiling Colette before settling them back on Lloyd. "You have saved your Chosen. What now? There will merely be other Chosens, and the regeneration cycle will continue. Nothing will change."

Regal's eyes widened. From what he knew of Lloyd thus far, the kid was pretty hardheaded and didn't readily take to being patronized like this. But for whatever reason - maybe it had to do with the time they'd spent together in Sylvarant, although one would think the whole Cruxis betrayal would've put a damper on things - Lloyd _listened_ to Kratos. The teen's head bowed as he stared at his feet. A few of his fingers idly traced along the hilts of his twin swords.

"You're right. This can't keep happening," Lloyd said at last. "There's got to be a way to change the nature of this system."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Kratos asked swiftly.

"I don't _know_ , okay?" Lloyd hissed a breath through gritted teeth. "I don't know all the answers. I probably never will. I just know what's right, and that I have to try. That's all."

And a few thin seconds passed where the remaining group members glanced back and forth between teen and seraph before Kratos said:

"Fair enough."

"I'll change it," Lloyd grumbled, brow furrowed, fists tense. "I swear I'll find a way. Otherwise more people will suffer needlessly. And there will be more Human Ranches and Exspheres."

Regal hadn't expected much else. Though he'd known Lloyd for only a few days, the swordsman's enthusiasm remained constantly contagious. Regal nodded an agreement. "Then I shall help you however I can." And the _for Alicia_ went unspoken but shouted steadfastly in his mind.

It didn't make any sense in context with their current situation, but Kratos almost appeared pleased at Lloyd's reaction. As a high-ranking member of Cruxis, Regal assumed that Kratos would do everything in his power to steer them all away from attempting to dismantle the system upon which both worlds were built - the very system that Kratos likely had a hand in creating.

Apparently, for whatever reason - that wasn't the case.

"Well, this means we'll be doing a lot of traveling," Raine offered. "Having functional Rheiards in our possesion again would definitely help. Shall we head to the Temple of Lightning first?"

"The Summon Spirits might know how to help us, too," Colette said cheerfully.

Sheena took in a breath and held it. "Alright," she said on an exhale. "Let's go, then."


	49. Solitarius (Alone)

Chapter Forty-Nine

 _Solitarius_

* * *

 _I lie awake and watch it all,  
It feels like a thousand eyes_

* * *

When Colette had lost her soul, everything had felt a bit like she'd been underwater.

Sounds were muffled; her vision had been blurry and hazy and didn't ever seem to stop swirling. And her limbs hadn't responded to her orders to move them whatsoever. It had been terrifying at first, to be trapped in such a limbo; then after a few days, she'd begun to grow accustomed to it. She'd clung to the snippets of voices and visions that she could discern through the mire. She'd clung, most of all, to the garbled sound of Lloyd calling her name, of telling her that he'd never give up, that he'd find a way to get her back.

Trapped in a useless body that no longer belonged to her, Colette had never been happier to hear him speak.

When she'd been taken heavenward by Pronyma into the Tower of Salvation, Colette had thought it was all over. The room she'd been brought into was cavernous and full of glowing lights; most of all, though, Colette remembered a tall man in white, with long golden hair. He had paid close attention to her and treated her with the utmost care; it was almost comforting, in a way, because at least Colette felt like she wouldn't come to harm in his presence.

He'd put her through what she guessed was some sort of inspection; it involved a large brass chamber where she'd been sealed away. There was a window, and Colette remembered the man's smooth, hard face staring at her expectantly. An unknown amount of time had passed like this.

Then, he'd said to her: _You're as useless as the rest of them. Get out of my sight._

It was rather absurd, but Colette had wanted to protest this. She wasn't useless; she was the Chosen! This was supposed to be her fate - even if everything had gone terribly wrong at the last minute, Colette had only ever lived for one purpose.

And to be told by an angel - no, _the_ angel - that she was useless… Colette felt like she lost her soul all over again.

Then the Renegades had shown up, a blur of blue and brown uniforms and silver helmets - and they had taken her away, regardless of her will.

The angel's rejection had to do with the sickness, Colette knew. The crawling expanse of shiny turquoise flesh that had started to overtake her body. Instinctively, Colette glanced down at her tunic and her sleeves to make sure she was properly covered. With all the other things going on in their group right now, the last thing she wanted was to become a burden all over again-

"What are you thinking about?"

Lloyd's voice made her flaxen head snap up. Colette widened sapphire eyes at him through her bangs and immediately smiled big and bright. "Oh, nothing. I'm just wondering what the Temple of Lightning is going to be like. Do you think it'll make our hair stand on end like those experiments in the Professor's class?"

The distraction worked. Lloyd's face filled at once with curiosity and wonder. "Oh, man, I hope so! Maybe I can find a way to channel the electricity through my swords or something-"

"Um, Lloyd?" Colette breathed a nervous laugh. "That doesn't sound very safe. Don't hurt yourself, okay?"

"Ah, you're probably right," the teen grinned, scratching at the back of his head. Then the grin sobered into a small, warm smile. "Thanks Colette. I've missed you."

She took his hand instantly and squeezed it, to make up for all the times before when she couldn't. "I've missed you, too."

He kept smiling as they walked together, hand-in-hand. Then he frowned thoughtfully. "I'm still wondering how exactly Noishe made your Key Crest work. I didn't know he could do anything like that."

They both turned around to glance at the creature of mention; Noishe was at the back of their group, and for whatever reason seemed rather intent on walking beside Kratos.

And Sara, who had evidently grown too tired to walk (to be fair they'd traveled several miles, and she wasn't exactly in any condition for an arduous hike), was now perched on Noishe's furry back, looking for all the world like an elated child as she was carried onward by the creature effortlessly, and almost proudly. Noishe had his large head held high, giant ears twitching, panting happily.

Sara sent both Lloyd and Colette a beaming, toothy grin, and waved at them with one unsteady, too-thin arm. The Chosen returned both gestures; the nephew frowned and dropped his gaze to his boots.

"I guess there's a lot more to Noishe than meets the eye," Colette began hopefully, in a desperate distraction. "He's really amazing, don't you think?"

Lloyd let out a long sigh. Contrarily, Colette held her breath and bit her bottom lip, waiting for one of a wide possibility of responses. Then:

"Yeah, he is. Have I mentioned I missed you?"

Colette giggled and sheepishly tucked her chin against her chest. "Maybe once or twice. But I never get tired of hearing it."

* * *

Genis swallowed the latest bite of his tuna sandwich and frowned a little. He narrowed his eyes across the campfire and at Sheena, who had been avoiding all of them for pretty much the entire day. They'd nearly made it to the Temple of Lightning; the sun had set before they could complete the journey, though. Which meant a night of camping in the jagged, verdant mountains surrounding the Temple itself.

"Hey, Lloyd." The younger Sage elbowed his friend in the ribs. "What do you think is up with her?"

"Huh?" Lloyd had evidently been rather absorbed in his meal, and had failed to notice either his best friend or Sheena's absence. He blinked over at Genis. "What's up with who?"

"Sheena," the young mage sighed with dramatic exasperation. "You haven't noticed? She's been really weird and quiet all day. The only one she's talked to is Corrine."

Lloyd tapped his chin pensively. "Oh yeah, you're right."

Zelos, who had been perusing a magazine by the firelight (and of course its cover boasted a scantily-clad woman and the title of _Meltokio's Finest_ ), now lifted his head in apparent interest. "She hasn't told you yet?"

Lloyd's eyebrows raised. "Told us what?"

Tethe'alla's Chosen had been reclining beside the campfire as if he were stretched on a luxurious settee. He sat up languorously, crosslegged, and sent both boys a knowing smirk. "Ah, it figures. She seems to have a thing for you, Lloyd, so I thought she would've told you the truth by now." He glanced lovingly over his shoulder at Sheena in the distance. "My little ninja - always so mysterious."

"A-a _thing?"_ Lloyd's eyes popped open wide. "And will you just quit being… _you,_ and tell me what you're talking about?"

For a moment, something serious and altogether human appeared on Zelos' graceful face. He frowned thoughtfully, his shoulders slumping a little. "It's… not for me to say." Then his trademark smirk was back. "You should go talk to her, though. Trust me, she'd appreciate it."

Lloyd and Genis glanced at one another. And with a shrug and a determined smile, Lloyd stood up and walked away.

Genis kept eyeing the Chosen warily with pensive, pursed lips. Zelos widened his eyes at the young mage. "What? Something on my face?"

"Every now and then," Genis began skeptically, "you start to make me believe you're not an _entirely_ terrible person, Zelos."

"Ah, good," Zelos grinned, lying down once more and returning his attention to his magazine. "The act is working, then."

"And then you ruin it," Genis concluded in a huff.

* * *

Kratos had laid out her bedroll just far enough away to grant a tiny sliver of privacy - but not, in his opinion, too far to be suspicious. After all, to the rest of their companions, his distance from Sara is what would seem strange, given his heaven-sent mission to guard her and the Exsphere on her back.

She was sleeping fitfully - an unfortunate trend for as long as he'd known her. But all those nightmares, all those grimaces and sheets crunched in trembling fists had before been due to Niflheim's influence, and the demons that danced in her mind as soon as she fell into the unguarded cavern of sleep.

This was different. Because the demons - the literal ones, anyway - were gone.

What had her freckled face pale, her hair mussed and her breaths catching, now, were all the things Martel had seen.

The Kharlan War had not been pretty. Kratos knew this. He didn't need sleep; when he chose to allow it, which wasn't very often for this exact reason, his own dreams were stained with blood and explosions and detached bodyparts and what exactly magitechnology could do to a human body. Flesh was not meant to be stripped from living bones; eyes were not meant to disintegrate from their sockets. And to hear that sound, of someone's last breath shrivel up as lungs turned to ash-

"Stop," Kratos heard her say, a tremulous murmur. He'd been standing beside her, and now stared down at her grimacing face through his bangs.

"M-make it-" She doubled over, curling into a ball, pressing her forehead into her knees. "Make it _stop."_

In those days, when they were soldiers, Martel was plagued by nightmares like this, too. She saw the worst of the worst, as a healer on the front lines, always flitting between screaming men, her staff alight, her graceful dress smudged with soot and dirt and bloodied handprints as soldiers reached for her desperately, eternally calling - always, always for help.

When Martel had her nightmares though, either her brother or Yuan had been there instantly to help her back to reality, to make everything okay again, even when it couldn't be. Kratos had aided her, too - she'd smile at him, and always joke that his low, smooth voice could never fail to lull her back to sleep.

"N-no," Sara choked. Her eyes were squeezed closed desperately, though tears leaked out and trailed along her pallid face.

But now, all Kratos could do was watch.

"Don't. I can't-"

Or, all he _should_ do was watch. His hands curled into fists as he frowned, half-determined, half-nauseous.

"I'll help, just- just _wait-"_

Kratos needed to appear impartial, distant, stolid. No matter what. No matter how it killed him. The others could look over at any moment, and then his already rather shaky disguise might snap completely.

Sara's face was a twisted bramble of struggle. "Oh, gods-"

"Excuse me," came a small, high-pitched voice. Accompanied by the slight crunching of grass, like tiny, light footsteps.

The laser-like gaze he'd been ineffectually giving Sara now slid just a few paces to the right. And towards a tiny beige-brown fox creature with pointed ears and ridiculous, poofy blue tails.

Kratos frowned harder. "Yes?"

"That's rude," Corrine said factually.

It took Kratos a few seconds to register what the small Summon Spirit had actually said. Then:

"What?"

"Sheena has nightmares all the time," Corrine went on factually, his small voice leaving no room for argument. He twitched his ears at Sara, curled in a ball, shivering, sweating. "It's rude to not wake her up. At least, Sheena always wanted me to."

The seraph now immediately glanced across the grass, towards where his son now sat with the ninja in mention, side by side, beneath the moonlight. It almost looked… romantic?

How cute.

Kratos sighed again. "I can't."

"Why?" What a _damnable_ little summon spirit. Manmade, wasn't it? Who would design something so _annoying-?_

"Don't you care about this lady?" Corrine asked, trotting closer to Sara.

Kratos _humphed._ "That is not your concern."

"You do, though," Corrine said, and Kratos could've sworn the tiny thing was smirking at him. "Why else would you watch over her?"

"It is my job."

"So you don't care?"

Kratos crossed his arms and turned towards the distant mountains. "Lord Yggdrasill cares, so I must care."

Corrine nuzzled his tiny nose against Sara's tense shoulder. "Then why don't you wake her up?"

Kratos scowled.

"Because her suffering is necessary," he ground out. Although it made his soul hurt.

Corrine hopped onto Sara's chest. He glanced back at Kratos and flashed his tails.

"That's kind of stupid," Corrine said.

Kratos opened his mouth to argue. Then closed it.

The damn little fox was right.

Corrine nudged at Sara's chin. Kratos should've stopped him; suffering made the Exsphere grow faster, made it more powerful. Which meant less time for the process, and an overall faster recovery-

"Hey," Corrine was saying. "This isn't real, freckled-human. Wake up, now, okay?"

Sara's earthen eyes opened in a flash; apparently Corrine had claws, because he latched them just deep enough into Sara's duster to hang on as she lurched upright and fought to bring air into her lungs.

"Hello," Corrine said cheerfully. He nudged at Sara's dragonscale amulet with innocent, childlike curiosity. "Was that a bad dream?"

"The _worst_ ," Sara rasped. She kept herself upright with her hands behind her, as they curled into the grass. "That… That really…"

"Sucked?" Kratos offered.

Both Summon Spirit and servant of Niflheim now looked up at seraph in a slight bit of disbelief.

"Modern terminology," Kratos grumbled. "Accurate usage."

"I'm glad you're awake now," Corrine intoned, batting playfully at the amulet on Sara's chest. "Sheena's been distracted by that boy, so you can keep me company."

"B-boy?" Sara swallowed. Dragged a hand through her hair. "Do you mean Lloyd?"

"Oh, yes," Corrine answered, craning his small head towards the looming Temple. "He's been talking to Sheena. This is a hard time for her. She has nightmares, too."

Kratos watched one of Sara's hands ease into the mane of fur on Corrine's neck, where her long fingers scratched absently, with the utmost care. Her gaze found Kratos' and stayed there. And despite everything, she smiled at him.

"He's a good kid," Sara said.

"He is," Kratos agreed.

Sara sat up more. A breeze whistled through the valley; she looked cold, gaunt. Vulnerable. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and wings and never let go.

Instead, he did nothing.

Kratos instantly felt a pit in his gut, a broiling cauldron of shame and uselessness. He had just an absolutely _wonderful_ history of making the women he loved endure undue hardship as he stood by and watched helplessly.

Sara kept smiling, though. She didn't seem to care. She clutched Corrine to her chin like some sort of plush animal.

"You're really soft," Sara said into his fur.

"Thanks," Corrine chirped. "I know."

Against all odds - Kratos smiled, too.

...And that was the night that one of the Four Seraphim got properly schooled by a five-pound fox with a collar made of bells.

* * *

Sheena had to admit that she felt a little better now that the truth was off of her chest.

Although she still wasn't entirely sure what Lloyd's reaction would be. She half-expected him to flat-out refuse to follow her into the Temple tomorrow - after all, she'd gotten dozens of people killed the first time. What was to say it wouldn't happen again? Lloyd probably didn't want to get electrocuted to a crisp, either-

She risked a glance at him. He was sitting beside her silently, a few feet away, although his presence felt vast and almost overwhelming. He looked to be carefully considering both her words and his next sentence - something he wasn't exactly known for, but had made more of a habit to do lately, as he matured. She'd only known him for a few months, but he'd grown by leaps and bounds both physically and mentally. It was pretty astounding to witness, and Sheena was proud to call him her friend.

She bit her bottom lip and swallowed hard. Although… that friendship might not last much longer, now that he knew every detail of her past.

Lloyd straightened his back little by little. His hands were clasped together in front of him, elbows resting on bent knees. He raised his bowed head.

And then he smiled at her, and Sheena felt pretty confident it would've knocked her off her feet if she hadn't already been sitting.

"You'll do great this time," he said simply. "I know it."

The breath sailed from Sheena's lungs. She laughed once at the sheer incredulousness of both his positive attitude and what he'd said. Her mouth was probably hanging open, although there was little she could do about it.

"Uh," she managed. "Wh-what? You think?"

"I _know_ it," he repeated steadfastly. "You've already made a pact with Undine, and you've helped us out so much aside from that. What happened in the past is in this past. You're strong, and you're going to be fine."

"But-" She really didn't _mean_ to protest what he was saying; it was just that her thoughts had been on autoplay about this for so long that changing them felt nearly impossible. "But if I fail again, you guys have to be sure to-"

"If you keep doubting yourself," Lloyd told her, with a sort of friendly admonition, "then I'm going to stand up and leave. I only want to talk to the Sheena who believes she can do this. Not the one who clings to the past."

Where did he suddenly get this sort of beautiful, obstinate wisdom? Who _was_ this person, and what had he done with goofy, overconfident Lloyd Irving?

"Okay," Sheena said timidly. "Yeah, you're right. Okay."

"You made me believe in myself when we lost Colette and Sara," he went on steadfastly. He smiled a little, sheepishly. "And you stopped me from breaking my hand even worse when I felt like punching that tree."

Contentment and gratitude washed over her like a wave of warm water. "I still feel bad for it. The poor tree didn't do anything."

"Yeah, I know," he grimaced. "It just stood there. Being all… tree-like."

A few seconds passed silently.

Then Sheena slapped a hand over her nose and mouth and snorted a laugh. " _Tree-like?"_

"Sh-shut up," Lloyd grumbled. "Tree- _ish_? Is that better?"

Sheena couldn't stop laughing. It was like the icy cage of her fear and apprehension had been suddenly broken, and she felt free to move for the first time in years.

"It wasn't _that_ funny," Lloyd pouted. But Sheena just laughed harder.

* * *

Zelos had never been inside a Summon Spirit's Temple before. As a bastion of the Church of Martel, the whole 'Summon Spirit' thing was borderline heathen idolatry, and the Church had expressed this view through staunch apathy and passive-aggressive ignorance. So setting foot inside this gleaming spire of amethyst-colored mysticism felt a little like flipping the bird to the Church.

Zelos loved that part.

Speaking of dissing the Church, he'd done a _lot_ of that lately, what with discovering his… _darker_ side, so to speak. He'd begun to get used to it, just a little; after all, it had only been a matter of days since rediscovering his affinity towards the underworld. Originally, there had been only fear and apprehension, and maybe some shame and disgust, too. Those things were still largely at the forefront of his thoughts on the matter - but maybe, just _maybe_ there had bloomed a little bit of acceptance.

This would be the first battle Zelos had participated in since relearning the truth. One couldn't tell thanks to the near-permanent, confident smirk on his face, but he was actually pretty nervous about handling everything when placed under threat of physical harm - to himself, or the rest of his group.

He wasn't ready to call them his _friends_ yet, so _group_ would have to do.

Even just worrying about worrying had started to make the back of his skull buzz a little and his shoulders get twitchy. Zelos had never been all that good at handling unpleasant emotions in the first place; throwing demonic berserker rages on top of this was basically a disaster waiting to happen. He smiled anyway and kept walking forward.

"I thought there'd be monsters," Lloyd said with a bit of a frown.

Raine held her staff aloft and used its gleaming tip to illuminate the main chamber of the Temple of Lightning. The floor was slick and colored a uniform shade of dark purple, as were most of the walls and light fixtures; the very air felt prickly, charged with huge amounts of energy. She sighed. "This disappoints you, I'm assuming?"

"Well, a little," Lloyd went on, his hands hovering atop the hilts of his blades. "I guess I just wanted to see what the Temple monsters on this side would be like."

Regal narrowed his eyes as he glanced around curiously. "Temples usually have many traps as well. All of these seem to have been taken care of, almost as if someone has cleared the way for us."

"It is best not to make any assumptions," Kratos intoned coolly, one hand resting idly beside his sword. Zelos rolled his eyes at the seraph. Of course this meant that Kratos knew more than everyone else and wanted to squash the subject flat.

The Renegades has been here and cleared the place for them. To be fair, Zelos knew this, too. But he wasn't going to parade it in everyone's face like Kratos seemed so intent on doing.

Kratos stopped walking; behind him, Sara did the same, nearly bumping into his back.

"At any rate," he began, "this is as far as Sara goes."

Zelos widened his eyes a little. Though he and his demonic counterpart currently weren't on the best of terms, there hadn't been a time yet when he attempted to control his dark side without her presence.

She didn't look surprised at Kratos' announcement. It made sense, after all. She couldn't exactly fight right now, and would just be more of a liability to the group than an asset.

Lloyd, predictably, was not very happy about this. "But, why-"

"She is in no condition for battle," Kratos cut in evenly, "particularly against a Summon Spirit. You are well aware of this."

"And where she goes, you go," Zelos mused, flipping his hair back over one shoulder. "It's adorable, really."

Sara glared at him, her thin, freckled face pulling into a menacing frown. But he just grinned back at her, hand on one cocked hip.

"Point is," Zelos continued, "we'll be facing Volt without the help of gramps here. So it's a good thing you've got the world's sexiest magic swordsman on your side instead!"

Also predictably, Lloyd ignored him. The teen sighed heavily as he walked up to Sara, shoulders tense, head down.

"I guess this is for the best," Lloyd relented, meeting her eyes.

"Damn straight," she agreed. "I'm useless and would only get in your way." She pulled him into a fierce hug, and said against his hair: "Don't die, kid. If you do, I'll have to kill you."

" _Double_ death," Lloyd muttered. He smiled against her shoulder. "That's harsh, Sara."

"Glad we're on the same page." She held him at arms' length, then reached up and touseled his wild chestnut hair. "Now go."

He listened, and turned and joined the others. Though it looked like it killed her, Sheena was the one who led them forward. Zelos trailed behind them all; he didn't want anyone to see his own apprehension, which was undoubtedly manifesting itself rather clearly in the downward slant of his mouth and unusual stiffness of his steps.

Speaking of steps, he suddenly heard a few light footsteps from over one shoulder, and felt a hand wrap around his wrist. Zelos turned his head and met Sara's shadowed gaze.

"You got this," she told him quietly. "Alright?"

Zelos blinked, and held his eyes closed as he attempted to settle the uncomfortable churning of his stomach.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Sure."

* * *

There were exactly twenty-four stairs that led up to Volt's altar.

With each one, it felt harder for Sheena to breathe.

Time seemed to slow; she became hyperaware of everything. She could feel the muscles of her legs expand and contract with each step, the blood swishing against the veins of her neck. The way the others stood down below and stared up at her like she herself were some mythical figure. Her back ached like it had been shot full of arrows.

But she kept going.

Lloyd had given her one last encouraging word and smile; she clung to both like a drowning man to a life raft. Corrine was silent and warm on her shoulder. The bells of his collar jangled softly with each of her steps, just beside her ear, where his fur gave her a familiar, comforting tickle.

The dais sprawled out in front of her, made of gleaming, violet obsidian, and backlit by ceremonial glowing runes that had been indelibly burned into her memory long ago. Sheena inhaled. Squared her shoulders. Pressed her palms together over her chest.

And she said softly, to anyone listening:

"Here I go."

* * *

It took approximately three seconds after the door to Volt's altar closed for Sara's legs to give out.

Kratos caught her, of course. He always had. Ever since that first day they met in Sylvarant, when she'd been merely a lost soul, a murderer with no home.

She remembered how bright and cheerful that day had been, and how embarrassed she felt to have learned she'd been carried, unconscious, for the better part of two miles by this tall, burgundy-haired mercenary who was stupidly handsome.

Gods, that seemed like so many lifetimes ago.

She gripped weakly for the belts across the back of his shoulders. Kratos couldn't see her face; it was currently buried into the side of his neck. If he could, though, he'd see a tired, broad, warm grin spread among sunken cheeks.

"Sara?" His low voice was tense and strained and full of concern, which she always found massively ironic. Like he didn't know exactly what was going on, or precisely how _shitty_ she felt all the time, or how little energy she had left to even stand, much less keep _existing-_ "Are you alright?"

"Peachy," she murmured, that Exsphere burning, stinging all over again. "Never better."

His arms felt so amazing as they circled around her and held her close. Gently, though. Like she were a priceless, crumbling artifact. His thumb trailed slowly along the back of her neck. He exhaled an unnecessary breath against her temple.

"I'm so sorry," Kratos told her. "For all of this. I would change it if I could. In an instant."

"I know." Her head swam. She felt something wet on her face and idly realized she was crying.

Sara tried to say something else. Something to reassure him that everything was okay; that was her job, right? To be the strong one. To unite what remained of this family.

Yeah, nope. Not now.

Instead, Sara just sobbed like a baby into that stiff blue and white fabric of his collar.

Kratos dared to hold her closer. He could snap her in two, if he wanted. The edges of his broad frame glowed white for a moment as he summoned a healing spell.

He lent her all of his inhuman strength. His mana poured into her like a tsunami; she barely had the right of mind to open herself to it, to accept it. The spell bolstered her, letting her lungs expand, her heart pump with unfamiliar voracity.

It was temporary, Sara knew. But it was enough. She settled herself onto her own two feet.

"Not much longer, now," Kratos breathed. "You can do this. I know you can. I've seen your strength, your will-"

"Oh, stop," Sara chuckled. "You're making me blush."

His lips brushed once across her cheek. "Good."

She pulled back. Pressed her forehead against his, and cupped his angled face in her withered hands. His own instantly flew atop hers, his much longer fingers easing between hers and gripping firmly, in that beautiful way that told her wordlessly to never let go.

For a few seconds she wasn't sure what had happened; Kratos went stiff, rigid as a board. Had she said something wrong? Had he lent her too much mana? She forced her eyes open and into his; they were sharp, and deadly, and focused at the Temple's entrance. He backed up and drew his sword in one practiced, fluid motion.

"Stay behind me, my love," Kratos commanded. "We have company."

* * *

Lloyd had to shield his eyes from the glowing runes that erupted beneath Sheena's feet. The tails of her robes and that bow around her waist began to flutter and sway, although there was no way any outside air could've gotten in this far into the temple. Her black hair looked highlighted silver; the altar dwarfed her and seemed to swallow her whole.

He drew his swords, and he watched.

The ceiling here was so high, so far out of reach that it looked simply black. The air thickened. Sparks danced high above their heads and collected into a blistering, flickering column that crashed down towards the altar with a monstrous roar.

Lloyd found himself stumbling backwards, stunned, along with all of his companions.

Sheena, however, didn't move an inch.

That lightning caught itself and swirled, gracefully, until it condensed and tightened into a glowing ball. It burst, like a balloon popping, in a shower of crackling sparks that slid across the floor and through the air like so many ethereal snakes, bouncing off of Sheena's shoulders, sliding through her charcoal hair.

Everything went dark. Two slivers of red began to glow in the shadows - eyes, Lloyd realized, as they slowly opened, revealing blinding yellow pupils and a formless body of crackling, spherical static.

Then, Volt began to speak.

What emanated from his being were not words, but a series of deep hums and clicks that didn't resemble anything close to the modern tongue. Lloyd remembered the Temple of Water; Undine had spoken to them of a test, of her terms upon which they needed to form their pact. Maybe Volt just spoke a different language?

Lloyd heard a new sound. He saw Sheena's hands drop to her sides and start to twitch. Saw her shoulders slump, and scraping, terrified breaths began to leak their way through her grimacing mouth.

Thunder. The feel of her knees slamming into the tile floor as she ducked for cover. The smell of charred, sizzling human flesh-

"It's just like before," Sheena rasped, her face aglow in the Spirit's presence. "What the _hell_ is he saying?!"

There was no warning, no buildup of energy at all; Volt simply unleashed a column of lightning on either side of her, as if in a demonstration of his power.

Lloyd wanted to sprint up the stairs and jab both his swords into the Summon Spirit's creepy eyes. He stood in front the others, like always - Raine and her brother, Presea, Regal, Colette and Zelos, who all watched this same exchange with a similar hopeful, terrified expectation.

But there was something a little different, now. Something felt heavy and just _off_ behind him; Lloyd had never been the most perceptive of people when it came to the moods of others, or sensing mana signatures at all.

But this was dark and deep and unmistakable. He couldn't have been the only one who felt it; Volt himself seemed to pause in whatever way he was speaking, as if affronted by the presence of this darkness.

Lloyd would've looked back, but he heard Sheena scream and throw her arms over her head in a desperate attempt at self-preservation from Volt's offense. The flashing lights around her seemed to make her shimmer-

"It's the Angelic Language," Colette told them all. "Volt is speaking the Angelic Language."

"Can you translate?" Raine asked breathlessly.

"Yes," Colette affirmed, stepping up beside Lloyd, her pale face full of steel. "I can."

* * *

Metal clanking; boots shuffling. Kratos had heard these noises a thousand times over. They belonged to Castle Tethe'alla and the Papal Knights.

He helped form them. He helped _make_ them, so many years ago.

They didn't scare him in the slightest. Kratos gripped his sword tighter. And when he sensed Sara had sufficiently hidden herself among the Temple's numerous pillars and shadows, Kratos stepped into the light.

All movement stopped abruptly. As was tradition, the leader of the Knights wore gold armor. It's why all those belts across Kratos' chest and back were a similar color. Even after this long, he couldn't deny what he'd come from. In a different lifetime long ago, he'd have been the same man.

"Halt," the Knight announced, the polished, sharp edge of his axe sparkling in the dim light. "We are under orders from the King to apprehend Tethe'alla's Chosen of Mana."

Kratos briefly closed his eyes.

Well, damn. Yuan had been right. This was, indeed, a _bother._

"He is currently _occupied_ ," Kratos announced mordantly.

"Insignificant," the Knight countered. His charges instantly formed up behind him - nearly thirty of them, a sizeable number even for the seraph - swords and axes held at the ready.

"Show us to the Chosen," the Knight growled, "or face the consequences."

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me! I appreciate it an absolutely ridiculous amount!

Lyrics at the beginning are "Thousand Eyes" by Of Monsters and Men. THE ULTIMATE BATTLE SONG.


	50. Iudicium (Judgment)

Chapter Fifty

 _Iudicium_

* * *

 _Oh my lover, my lover, my love,  
_ _We can never go back;  
_ _We can only do our best to recreate  
_ _So don't turn over, turn over the page;  
_ _We should rip it straight out  
_ _Then let's do our very best to fake it_

* * *

When Volt spoke, his voice seemed to slither through the ground and make it shake. Colette was still becoming used to feeling anything again; this peculiar sensation vibrated up her feet, through her legs and into her chest, making her shiver. But her voice didn't show any of this.

"'I was bound to Mithos,'" Colette announced for the Summon Spirit, "'but my pact is broken. I no longer desire any dealings with humans.'" The hum grew. Colette flinched, drawing back slightly. "'Be gone.'"

"But, I-" Sheena swiftly turned around to face Volt, eyes wide, shoulders slumped. "I need your help! I've come all this way, a-and- you _can't_ just say _no-"_

The air thinned. All sound stopped, seemingly sucked away. Volt's crimson eyes blasted open wide and lightning crackled out in all directions, sharp, blistering and merciless. Sheena slammed onto her back, breath spurting from her lungs. Somewhere below, she heard a few sharp moans or gasps, and then a few thuds; her body felt heavy, and she wanted nothing more than to keep lying here, to sleep, to make it all go away.

Then Corrine nudged at her cheek. "Get up, Sheena! Hurry!"

It took a few seconds, but she did, crawling languidly to her knees. She turned around.

And down below, on that slick purple floor, she saw a graveyard all over again.

Colette was a holy white ball, curled on her side in the corner; Raine had attempted to protect her brother, although the two of them were now slumped over onto one another like a pair of corpses. Presea looked like she'd simply sat down, her chin lolling against her chest, her axe useless beside her, while Regal had fallen to his knees, wavering, fighting to remain upright through his grimace. Even Lloyd was knocked down, attempting to use one blade to pull himself to his feet.

Zelos, however, was still standing, unscathed.

How? Sheena blinked. _How_ was he unaffected by Volt's attack? And why did the floor beneath his feet look so dark-

He was staring straight at her.

"Come on, Sheena," he told her smoothly. One half of his mouth was tugged into a mischievous smirk. His eyes looked a little off. His head was cocked oddly to one side. "When have you ever given up so easily?"

She got to her feet. Colette couldn't translate currently; she and the others were just regaining their senses.

It didn't matter to Sheena right now, anyway. She inhaled and faced the crackling ball of lightning hovering just behind her.

This was going to work.

Even if it killed her.

* * *

He looked downright heroic, standing before all of those pointy, gleaming knights, his broad back to her, his sword grasped firmly in both hands.

Kratos, the man, had vanished.

What remained was the stuff of legend - a force of nature that beckoned strands of light to heed his every whim.

Sara watched from the shadows as beaming runes sluiced beneath his boots, illuminating his sharp jaw and the edges of his choppy burgundy hair. Sparks gathered and wafted all around his still frame like glowing snowflakes. Glassy feathers fell from nothingness and sank gently to the amethyst tile.

The host of knights halted their advance instantly, murmuring amongst themselves, although the sound immediately became drowned out by Kratos' steady, low voice:

"Sacred powers, cast your purifying light upon these corrupt souls…"

The ceiling gleamed, igniting, blinding them all. They shrank back, some turning to the exit, attempting to flee.

The Seraph raised his sword before his eyes. "...Rest in peace, sinners-!"

" _Wait!"_

The word tore from Sara's mouth in a desperate shriek. Kratos instantly whipped his head around and found her gaze; his attack paused, hovering just at the tips of his sword and fingers, causing his hair and the tails of his cloak to flutter in anticipation.

"Don't kill them," she pleaded, stepping into the light. "Please, _wait_."

Zelos had already killed plenty of them. Sara remembered. The ancient lines of shame and worry that had appeared on his youthful face; the way he grimaced as he'd admitted the truth to her, of the day he'd touched the underworld.

The last thing Zelos wanted would be for more of these men to die on his behalf. It would only send him deeper into his own self-hate. Of which there was already _plenty_.

"I'll go get him," Sara went on, much to the abject shock and disbelief of both Kratos and the Pope's finest. Incredulously, through mere instinct alone, she tried to smile, hands wringing behind her back, her teeth slashing white across her tan, freckled face. "I'll bring Zelos out. Just wait here for a minute, okay?"

"Sara…"

Kratos was saying her name in a warning. She ignored it. Her dragonscale boots echoed eerily as she climbed the stairs towards the door to Volt's altar, her back straight and proud.

"Sara, _don't-"_

"Five minutes," she announced, brandishing her claws, waving back over one shoulder, her face set in a grim, determined frown. "That's all I ask. Patience is a virtue."

She made her way up the stairs, opened the altar's door, and disappeared alone into the looming darkness.

* * *

"I am Sheena," she said. Her chest surged and burned. "I seek a pact with you, Volt. I need your help."

"That's good," Corrine assured at her ear, his tiny voice the literal antithesis to Volt's deep, earth-shattering hums. "He's just lost his faith in people. He needs to see humanity's heart."

"Our… heart?" She unsuccessfully fought the urge to turn and check on the others. "But if he hurts them again… if I fail-"

"There's no time for doubt, Sheena! Stop listening to them!"

"To… to who?"

"Everyone who ever doubted you! They don't matter!"

* * *

Martel, as a half-elf, had been extraordinarily sensitive to the presence of mana. Since becoming acquainted with the goddess on such a… _personal_ level, Sara found that this trait, much like her dragons' Exspheres, had now passed to her.

Which she kind of regretted right now. As a human, Sara still didn't know how to handle the presence of large amounts of mana. And this chamber, deep in the guts of the Temple of Lightning, was absolutely _drenched_ with it.

Summon Spirits were _no joke_.

Sheena stood at the top of the altar, an arm's reach away from Volt himself, who was the weirdest looking Summon Spirit to date - just this otherworldly, ethereal ball of energy that made Sara's hair stand on end and her skin prickle with goosebumps. Right now she didn't feel entirely useless; the healing spell Kratos had given her worked marvelously, and for a moment she felt back to her old self and at least some semblance of capable.

But something _bad_ had happened here.

Presea, Regal, Colette… the Sages, they were all crawling slowly, gingerly to their feet. Like they'd been hurt and could barely stand.

Even Lloyd.

Sara's back screamed at her. She darted forward, fueled by pure instinct, her legs eating up the ground, her eyes wild, blazing-

"It's alright, lovely," came a familiar, smooth voice.

She paused, breaths heaving. Then she stepped towards the voice, unable to stop herself; gravity seemed to pull her forward.

Zelos was waiting for her with an outstretched palm and an impossibly calm smile.

"I have everything under control," he told her. Tethe'alla's Chosen gripped her hand - the contact made her gasp, made the back of her skull buzz and shiver, made her shoulders prickle with familiar warmth - then released it just as quickly.

His churning gaze flicked to the stage, where Sheena and Corrine stood.

"Go," he snarled, in a voice that only halfway belonged to him. " _Now."_

She didn't hesitate. Sara sprinted for the stairs, rejoicing in her frantic heartbeat, climbing upwards with blinding speed.

Each of her steps left shadows on the floor. Thunder sounded somewhere overhead; Sheena wasn't paying attention. She was staring down at the others in horror. She didn't see the twin columns of lightning searing towards her back.

Corrine did.

He leapt forward, beige fur flying wild, intent on taking the blow for his friend.

Sara only had a fraction of a second to think _fuck that_ before she lunged forward, arms outstretched, and crushed the soft little fox against her chest, just as she had the night before.

 _Wake up, freckled-human. This isn't real._

Her knees crashed to the floor. At the base of her neck, Martel's Exsphere blazed; oily, inky black wings erupted from Sara's shoulders. Somewhere far off, a voracious creature was roaring; it took Sara several moments to realize the sound had come from her own throat, her jaw dropped and straining wide open. Volt's sparks bounced harmlessly off of her skin, coated in an armor of shadows.

Death by electrocution should've hurt, right? But she felt no pain, no discomfort at all. Those smoky obsidian spikes that had once haunted the length of her spine were back and shivering with delight.

Sara closed her mouth. She grinned. Her canine teeth were too long, and hung ominously over her bottom lip.

She wasn't alone in her head anymore. And it was _beautiful._

The demons wouldn't let her die.

Corrine squirmed in her arms. Sara's eyes had apparently been closed; she now opened them. They were shining, black and blood red, like cooling lava. She dropped the fox with stiff, robotic movements. He settled onto the floor with tiny paws and glanced back at her.

"Thanks, freckled-human," Corrine said, his tails twitching happily.

"Welcome," Sara managed.

A hand suddenly appeared in front of Sara's face. There was the soft jingling of bells; Corrine returned to Sheena's shoulder as she offered one hand.

"Thanks," Sheena said. "An offering of heart. That's just what Volt needed, I think."

Sara took the hand and climbed to her feet. "Or something, I guess."

Sheena breathed a laugh, and squeezed Sara's hand once before letting go. "Demons have hearts, too."

"I don't speak angelic or whatever," Zelos announced, hands on his hips, "but it seems like he's challenging us to a battle, yeah?"

"What…" Lloyd was standing now, below them all, and rubbing at the back of his head absently. "What happened?"

"It seems we were knocked unconscious for a time," Raine offered, her indigo eyes thinned as she straightened her back. She was eyeing Zelos a little warily, though her stony glare hid most of her concern.

"S-Sara?" Lloyd asked, upon laying eyes at Volt's altar. "Is that you?"

His voice tore through Sara like a spray of bullets. Her wings twitched, then flared wide, blocking out Volt's glow. She stood to her full height. Her boots hovered a few inches off the floor.

"Hey, kid," she growled, still smiling. "I'm back."

* * *

"It's been five minutes," the lead Knight announced ceremoniously. His axe was huge; its edge gleamed forebodingly in the dim light from the Temple's entrance. "Where is the Chosen?"

Kratos let out a terse breath. Impatience was on the short list of things he no longer understood.

"I was unaware you had a stopwatch," the Seraph grumbled.

"Call it instinct," the Knight countered gruffly. He glanced back at his charges with the slinking and twisting of his metal helmet. "Prepare to advance-"

"Whom do you serve?" Kratos asked. He pointed his sword at the floor and tilted his chin heavenward.

This seemed to give the leader pause. "The Pope, of course. The highest order of the Church of Martel-"

"Does anyone among you know Martel herself?"

This was a pretty superficial distraction, Kratos knew. But it worked. One of the Knights - from somwehere near the back - spoke up clear and unmistakable:

"The Goddess is inside all of us. We need only to seek her out."

Such a pious answer. Kratos barely reigned in the urge to unleash his wings. "Is that why you are here? To serve the Goddess?"

"The Chosen is a servant of Niflheim," another one said. "The Goddess would want us to seek out and destroy his kind."

Kratos couldn't help but smile.

If only they knew.

"Be patient," the Seraph assured. "You shall get your chance to please the Goddess."

* * *

Raine remembered the last Summon Spirit battle very well. What strategies had been necessary; how they'd scraped by with victory by the skin of their teeth. Her staff gleamed, a bastion of holy light and healing amidst lightning and flitting darkness.

Volt had descended. He waited between all of them, unleashing bolts of crackling mana at random, heating and sizzling the very air.

"Sis, why is he-" Genis' question was interrupted by a smudge of shadow, a deep pressure against his chest. "Zelos is one of them too?" he asked, a little breathlessly, though he kept a spell flickering at the tip of his kendama. "Why aren't you stopping them?"

 _Them_.

Sara and Zelos. Two sides of a trickling, obsidian hourglass.

Raine breathed a laugh and smiled. "Because I can't."

Raine had seen Sara in this state before; full of shadows, and slashes of charcoal dust and streaks of brimstone.

Zelos was brand new.

He trailed Sara like an obiedient charge, crimson hair flying, mirroring her every move, lashing out with his dagger when she would slash forward with her claws. Presea, Regal, Lloyd, Colette - and the Sages themselves had no room to advance, to attack the Summon Spirit. Sheena attempted to aid with her seals, as she surely felt obliged to do, given her heavy history-

"Stay away," Sara told them. Although her voice was more of a mixture of a tiger's snarl and a snake's hiss. She stared pointedly at Zelos. "He needs to do this."

The Chosen drew his arm back. His eyes closed. He tilted his head towards the ground.

"I'll show you," he began, smiling, his neck crawling with shadows, "what I'm like when I'm serious."

He held out one hand in an offering.

Sara stepped forward, and gripped it without hesitation.

Volt shrank back, his weird, disembodied crimson eyes wide and almost panicked. Sara and Zelos stepped forward as one; the former's wide, inky wings seemed to curl around them both, sheltering them from the Summon Spirit's sparks. Zelos raised his left hand; in it, he held Sara's right. He pointed his first finger forward, making hers do the same.

He closed his eyes one more time.

Shadows crashed into Volt from all sides, swaying and licking the air like charcoal flames. He screamed, a strange, low squelch through the tile floor. The sound thinned, stretching impossibly, biting at the air, before it crunched and deformed and vanished entirely - along with Volt himself. Only a few stray sparks remained, bouncing wildly along the floor.

Sheena held her breath; it took a few seconds, but Volt reappeared, though his movements seemed slower, and he made no move in the offensive at all.

He said something - a short, smooth rumble. Colette gasped, then smiled. "He says, 'Make your vow, Sheena.' You did it!"

"Congratulations," Corrine told Sheena, his tails twitching cheerfully behind her shoulder. "I knew you could do it."

"You tried to save me," Sheena said, a little numbly. She pressed her forehead against the little fox's, smiling and breathing a relieved sigh. "Thank you. I'm glad you're okay. And thank you too, Sara, for saving him."

It looked a little absurd, given her yawning wings and the wicked spikes all down her back - but Sara grinned, in her trademark toothy, goofy fashion. "It was nothing. I owed him one, anyway."

Sheena now turned her full attention to Volt, and stepped up to him again, this time without any hint of fear.

 _Make your vow._

Sheena squared her shoulders proudly. "For the sake of everyone that risked their lives to protect me - I want to save both worlds."

"'The vow has been made,'" Colette announced. "'I entrust my power to the pact-maker, Sheena.'"

He vanished again; in his place remained a gleaming gem of a deep, mysterious purple - Sardonyx. Sheena held out one hand and grasped it.

She bowed her head, her face solemn and somber, and closed her eyes. "Thank you, everyone."

The ground started to rumble and twist. Sara and Zelos, both of whom were hovering a few inches from the surface, didn't notice this. The others did, fighting for purchase to remain standing; somewhere overhead, a wall threatened to crack, sending bits of stone and dust pouring to the floor.

"Okay, really, now that that's over with," Lloyd began, glancing from where Volt had been moments earlier, to the shaking floor, to what remained of Zelos, swaying beside Sara- "Will someone tell me what the _hell_ is going on here?"

Regal cleared his throat. "I, too, would greatly appreciate an explanation."

"As would I," Presea agreed.

"Oh, and me," Colette tacked on.

Raine's eyes hadn't left Zelos; he was turned halfway from her, so she could only see the side of his face and one flickering, dark eye. "The short answer is that Zelos is the second demonic vessel. As for why this Temple now seems intent on destroying itself - that, I don't know."

"Wait a second-" Sheena fumbled for something in the pockets of her robes; she palmed the small blue gem of aquamarine that Undine had given her, just as it began to glow and warm. Moments later, the Lady of Water appeared before them all, beside Volt, suspended high in the air above their heads, her long, royal blue dress swaying like waves on a lake's surface.

"A link between the two worlds has been severed," she told them all, her voice like wintry rain. "Volt, my opposing force, has formed a new pact. The flow of mana between the worlds is no more."

Lloyd's eyes widened. "Does that mean that Sylvarant and Tethe'alla have stopped competing for each other's mana?"

"Yes." Undine directed her ruby eyes at Lloyd. "Eventually, if all mana links are broken, the worlds shall separate."

"That's perfect!" Genis said, glancing hopefully at Lloyd. "We just need to travel to all the other Temples and sever the rest of the mana links. The worlds will split, and there won't be a regeneration journey anymore."

"Then we know what we have to do," Lloyd announced, proudly straightening his back. He peered over at Sara and Zelos, raising his eyebrows. "Now, the next questions is what's happening with _you_ guys-"

Both Summon Spirits vanished. The rumbling ground quieted; in its wake came a rush of thundrous footsteps and the clanking of armor.

"We don't have time for that," Sara growled, turning her attention to the altar's entrance. "So much for patience. The Papal Knights are here. A _lot_ of them."

Zelos' eyes flew open wide. "The Knights? Why are they here?"

Sara's voice was grim. "For you." She gripped his hand tighter. "They know the truth, Z. They want to bring you before the King."

" _Hell_ , no," Zelos said instantly, staring at her in abject horror and broiling panic. "Do you have _any_ idea what they'll do to me-?"

"... _Grave!"_

Kratos' voice cut him short; the Seraph burst through the door, ahead of the knights, simultaneously casting offensive spells to keep them scattered and parrying innumerable blows from swords and axes. Spires of rock erupted from the ground and sent a group of them scattering; others filled their place instantly, rushing forward in an insistent wave.

"We're out of time," Kratos roared back over one shoulder. "Either let them have the Chosen, or we attack now!"

Zelos grimaced, his hands flying to his head and crunching into his hair. He rose higher into the air, eating up the dim light, the tail of his pink duster whipping in nonexistent wind.

Probably due to utter shock, the Knights paused in their offense to watch him. Their helmeted faces belied no emotion; a few gasps and prayers, however, could be heard from many.

"I don't want this," Zelos rasped. "I don't want to kill any more of them. Not like this!"

"Well, we're sure as shit not letting them have you!" Sara countered. "Come on, let's look for a way out-"

"There isn't one," Sheena said, shaking her head. "Mizuho has scouted every inch of this place. The only way out is through them."

There was a thin, tense silence - even the Knights seemed to participate, as every eye in the room went to Zelos and Sara, who hovered in front of him, her own wings fizzling out and vanishing.

"Z," Sara said softly. "We have to get out of here."

...Before she really knew what he was doing, Zelos had lunged for the pack at her side, the one she always kept strapped around her chest and waist.

"What are you-"

He tore open the top and plunged one hand inside the bag while the other drew his dagger. He pulled out a small, rectangular object wrapped in canvas and leather.

This _had_ to be it.

"What the _fuck-?"_ Sara shrieked at him, swatting at his hands, frantically trying to take back what he'd stolen. "Are you _crazy?!"_

He whipped around, away from her; it only took a few quick slices from his dagger, and the canvas was dropping to the floor, and so were its now-shredded leather straps. What stared up at him was an ornate cover of red and black, intricate designs, and pages edged in gold.

So _this_ was the Book of Mists.

"You're right, lovely," Zelos said quietly, his eyes wide with wonder, one corner of his mouth smirking confidently. He reached for her wrist and grabbed it. " _We_ have to get out of here."

" _Don't you_ dare _open that-"_

He did anyway.

As the covers parted, the air itself split and screamed open like a pair of jaws, creating a deep, endless hole devoid of all light. Sara's fingernails were digging into his wrist; she twisted her arm violently, screeching in protest, attempting to wrench free.

Zelos held on, ironclad. He stepped into the darkness and looked down; his feet seemed to be on the edge of a precipice, the bottom of which didn't appear to exist at all.

Sara tried to pull away one more time; her voice was hoarse and desperate as she reached back, away from the portal, and screamed:

" _Kratos!"_

The Seraph was quick. Knights be damned, he unleashed his wings and made a beeline into the air, straight for Sara, trailing starlight in his wake, sword at his hip.

Sara's face broke out in a relieved smile; he was going to reach her. She locked onto his garnet eyes desperately. He would take her away, and everything would be okay-

She watched his face fall, his eyes prying open. He opened his mouth and shouted something; Sara couldn't hear it. She was falling, being drawn backwards unstoppably, her wings reappearing and straining, merging with the shadows that pulled her away.

Zelos jumped in.

There was a hissing sound, like steam escaping from a kettle, and a quake that shook the entire temple - and then the portal to Niflheim zipped itself closed and vanished, along with both its vessels, as if it had never existed at all.

All that was left was the Book itself - lying there unassuming, face-up and closed, its edges trailing thin wisps of smoke into the still air.

* * *

A/N:

I didn't say this last time, but I wanted to give a shoutout to my guest reviewer Snowfire - thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I hope you continue to read and enjoy! And as always, thank you to everyone else who has taken the time to read my nerdy-hearted time-wasting shenanigans. Y'all are wonderful people.

I've been wanting to get to this part for sooooo long, oh god. I can't wait to delve into the machinations of Niflheim and the fate of Sara and Zelos. Stick around! Drop me a review sometime ;) Love!

Lyrics at the beginning are "Fake It" by Bastille - listened to it on repeat for pretty much the entire chapter. SO GOOD AND EPIC.


	51. Mortuus (Dead)

Chapter Fifty-One

 _Mortuus_

* * *

 _It's hard, letting go; I'm finally at peace, but it feels wrong  
_ _Slow in getting up; my hands and feet are weaker than before  
_ _And you are folded on the bed where I rest my head  
_ _There's nothing I can see; darkness becomes me  
_ _But I'm already there, I'm already there  
_ _Wherever there is you, I will be there too_

* * *

 _ **The night before Sara's capture to Welgaia. A Tethe'allan House of Guidance, just before dawn.**_

* * *

 _Kratos laid still._

 _Immaculately, beautifully still._

 _He was warm - just the perfect amount. His chin rested against her fiery orange hair; tendrils of it snaked down her neck and cradled his jaw. His hips pressed into her lower back; his chest flat against her shoulders. His knees curled against the back of hers, like interlocking pieces of a human puzzle._

 _He didn't have to feel anything right now - temperature, the blankets across his ivory skin, the soft pillow beneath his head._

 _But he wanted to._

 _Every single bit of it._

 _Sara twitched, probably half-asleep. Kratos opened a pair of cinnamon eyes and stared over her bare, freckled shoulder and at the brick wall beside the bed._

 _He wondered absently when it had been built. How many human hands had been involved in its construct? Such a solid arrangement of brick and mortar took skill, so these craftsmen had to have been selected carefully-_

" _Are you awake?" Sara asked, a breathy mumble against her pillow._

 _Kratos closed his eyes. Inhaled the bright, citrus-spice scent of her hair._

" _Yes," he said._

" _Do you want to be?"_

" _Yes," he repeated, a lazy mumble against the back of her neck._

 _A few seconds passed. Then: "You can sleep, right? If you want to?"_

" _I do not want to," the seraph admitted. "Not now."_

 _Sara's hands found his, splayed gently against her stomach. Her fingertips traced along the ridges of his knuckles._

" _Why?" she asked quietly._

 _He breathed out against the nape of her neck, before planting a soft kiss in the same spot._

" _I like this," he said simply. "You… stop time for me."_

 _Her eyes were open, and staring straight ahead, away from him, unblinking._

" _Why?" she repeated._

" _You are life." Kratos played softly at the back of her ear with his lips. "Reality. You… help erase the past."_

" _...No."_

 _Her voice was black and diamond-hard. She whipped around in the bed to face him, keeping the covers pointedly up over her bare chest. "No. That's bullshit. Don't put all that on me. I don't want to erase anything,"_

 _Something in Kratos' stomach dropped. He reached out to her with one hand. "Sara, that's not what I-"_

" _Never." Her eyes locked onto his. "Never_ ever _."_

 _He sighed. "That's not what I meant," he muttered._

" _I don't want to erase_ anything _," she echoed. Her gaze bore straight into his. "Do you hear me, Kratos? Some things have to stay." The dawning multicolored light from the stained glass window swayed across her tanned skin, the curves of her jaw and neck._

"She _has to stay," Sara finished in a whisper._

 _A long, slow breath eased its way through Kratos' parted lips. He bowed his head, until his forehead pressed against her temple. It was the best he could offer right now, because he was entirely unsure of what to say._

 _She shook her head against his adamantly. Her voice cracked and wavered. "Am I just fucking this up for you, Kratos? Should I just move on? What am I_ doing _? The thought of me somehow- somehow erasing, or - or_ replacing _her, I c-can't-"_

 _Kratos sat up swiftly. The covers shifted, dropping down his bare chest and settling into his lap._

" _Listen to me." He took in a bracing breath. "Above all else, she cared for two things."_

 _Sara blinked rapidly and frowned down at her hands as they fiddled with the blanket's edge. "Wh… what things?"_

" _Lloyd's safety," he explained clearly, "and my happiness. She wanted me to… live, when she couldn't."_

 _His arms lifted, and his fingers eased their way into her wild hair._

" _You give me life," Kratos went on. "By living once more, I am honoring her. That's it."_

" _But-"_

" _But you, Sara-" He kissed her firmly, a heated, physical accent to his next words:_

" _You are_ you _, and no one else. And you are mine."_

 _She stared at him for what felt like forever, her chocolate eyes wide with wonderment, and a bit of admiration that made him at once absurdly proud. He resisted the urge to square his shoulders and smile. Or maybe kiss her again. Or maybe both-_

" _Okay," she told him softly, and finally smiled. "Okay, Kratos. I can handle that."_

 _She laid back down, encouraging him to do the same, facing her. He brushed his fingertips slowly along her side, feeling the long, thin line of raised, scarred skin snaking over her left lower ribs - courtesy of a Desian's lucky sword strike, from what felt like a lifetime ago in Sylvarant._

 _From the day they had met._

 _The edge of his mouth lifted in a hint of a smile. "Do you remember that first day in Kozei?"_

 _She huffed a cynical laugh. "When I tried to kill you?"_

" _A minor detail, my love."_

" _I didn't, though." Sara quirked one eyebrow. "You stopped me. You saved me."_

 _He hugged her close and sighed again, deep and tired. "And I dragged you down to hell with me."_

 _She kissed him then, easing her lithe frame atop his own, swallowing his contented sigh._

" _If this is hell, Kratos," Sara murmured against his lips, "then don't let me leave."_

* * *

 ** _Present day_**

Kratos sank to his knees on the Temple of Lightning's cold, slick floor.

The Book of Mists sat just before him, caught in the dim glow of the altar's light. He reached out and took it. Its cover and spine felt warm in his hands, like flesh. He really didn't know what he was doing, or if this was even _safe_ \- but before he could stop himself, he was frantically flipping through its coarse pages.

They were all blank. There was no text at all, no instructions on how to possibly open the portal again. The empty beige paper seemed to sneer up at him.

"No," he heard himself say.

It was quiet at first; Kratos was barely aware he'd even spoken. His garnet eyes were strained open wide, overwrought and frantic. He swept the pages back and forth over again, like words would magically appear.

They didn't.

Something started to shatter inside of his chest; his heart and lungs felt like fragile glass ornaments that had been mercilessly launched against an unyielding wall. A million screams and curses boiled in his throat and coated the back of his tongue.

Kratos had failed.

 _Again_.

He hadn't been fast enough. Just _one_ second earlier, and he might've been able to reach her, to pull her back. He should've been paying more attention… Not to mention the fact that the host of Knights still standing just behind him were solely here because of his misguided, stupid decision to let them live.

Why hadn't he just listened to Yuan? Why was this happening now? Why did his mistakes have to… to-

"No," he repeated, a little louder this time, because the only ending to that thought was _kill Sara too._

Things always came full-circle, didn't they? No matter how much time had passed. No matter what decisions he made, or how he tried to be better. Fate ruled all. And he'd been so, _so_ idiotic to feel anything but powerless against it.

Kratos closed the Book slowly; his hands were shaking so bad that it tumbled right out of his palms and slid onto his bent knees.

 _If this is hell, Kratos, then don't let me leave._

He tried to say her name. It didn't work. The breath vanished in his throat-

Footsteps sounded just behind his right shoulder. Kratos turned his head to look at them. He saw red boots. Baggy black pants. And the proud, jutting hilts of a pair of twin swords.

Kratos met his son's eyes.

Lloyd displayed no grief whatsoever. No worry, no fear, no pain. His youthful face was set in a frown that was mostly determined, but also a little calculating and curious.

It was at this moment that Kratos realized his reaction to all of this _probably_ overstepped the bounds of a Cruxis superior mourning the loss of his test subject.

He realized also, with an inward grimace, that every one of his son's friends were staring at him with a nearly-identical look.

Lloyd held out one hand right in front of his face.

The teen started to speak. He was smiling a little, in that inspiring, entirely _Irving_ way that Kratos undoubtedly had never had anything to do with creating.

But he stopped abruptly.

Time halted. Except for Kratos himself, the world went silent and grey, devoid of all color. Something shot through the still, dense air; a prickle of familiar energy, an unmistakable mana signature.

Kratos rose to his feet instantly, just so he could bend one knee to the picturesque blonde Seraph that had materialized in front of him.

"Lord Yggdrasill," he murmured with practiced deference.

The leader of Cruxis made no move to acknowledge his charge other than a slight narrowing of his hard emerald eyes, which kept flicking back and forth between Lloyd and his father.

Yggdrasill frowned. "I sensed an overwhelming demonic presence, even from my chambers." Then smirked a tiny bit. "Not that I don't trust you, old friend. I simply wanted to investigate this for myself. Tell me - where have my vessels gone?"

Shame at once mutated violently into slow, creeping fear. Kratos forced his throat to work.

"Niflheim," he answered succinctly.

Yggdrasill tilted his head. "Pardon?"

"Niflheim," Kratos repeated. It took everything in him to disguise the grief that so desperately wanted to infiltrate his voice. "The Chosen ignored all orders and opened the Book prematurely. Both vessels are gone."

"And how many days of training has he received thus far?"

"Approximately one week."

"Out of ten," Yggdrasill spat. "You had estimated he'd need ten in order to survive Ratatosk's trials."

"Correct."

An impossible breeze swayed Yggdrasill's long, flawless hair. One of his hands curled into a fist; the air around his pearly-white frame sizzled forebodingly.

"I am very… displeased," he said calmly.

"I apologize, my Lord."

Kratos bowed deeper. His bent knee crunched into the floor. He should've felt more fear, more shame. The last time Yggdrasill had displayed this much blatant human emotion was when host body A012 had somehow miraculously escaped the Asgard Human Ranch.

"This is most detrimental to our cause," Yggdrasill said thinly. "How do you intend to make up for this mistake?"

'Our cause.' Bile rose in Kratos' throat.

His gaze swayed to Lloyd, who stood frozen in place and colored in empty shades of grey. The boy's hand was still extended. He was still smiling. And his eyes - Anna's eyes; Sara's eyes - were still bright and hopeful.

 _Do you hear me, Kratos? Some things have to stay._ She _has to stay._

Letting himself love Anna had been the hardest thing Kratos had ever done in his life.

Letting himself love Sara, after wallowing so hopelessly in the murky pits of grief and melancholy, shouldn't have been possible at _all_.

She'd saved him from that fate, though. Her whiskey, and her dragons, and her claws, and her hair, and every single one of the freckles across her blushing cheeks had saved him.

 _It's a choice,_ Sara told him once, not so long ago. _She always told me happiness was a choice. Choose the good stuff. Choose the best world. It doesn't have to be so bad, Kratos._

Without an order, Kratos got to his feet.

Yggdrasill probably widened his eyes. Probably felt insulted.

Kratos didn't care.

"I will retrieve them," he vowed, in a firm, authoritative voice he hadn't used in front of Mithos since he'd actually been twenty-eight years old. "Do not burden yourself with this worry. Please return to your chambers… my Lord."

Yggdrasill said nothing. The gears in his immaculate blonde head were clearly churning at a blistering pace. There were a few charged, tense seconds where Kratos half-expected to be incinerated where he stood by a blinding command of _Ray-_

But instead, Mithos Yggdrasill vanished again, leaving a dusting of rainbow-hued sparks to settle harmlessly to the floor.

Color flooded back into the world. Time began flowing once more. Kratos let out a swift breath.

"Get up," Lloyd told him. Then paused, addled, because somehow Kratos had stood without him remembering…?

"A-anyway. We have a common purpose now," Lloyd went on, "and we're going to need your help."

Kratos cleared his throat. "What about them?" He twitched his burgundy head towards the Papal Knights who, now that their target had literally vanished into thin air, stood still and utterly confused as to what should happen next.

Raine spoke up this time: "Do you not all share our same purpose, as well? You were sent to retrieve the Chosen by the King, correct?"

"Yes, of course," one of them - presumably a leader of some sort - began, though his hesitant voice sounded anything but certain. "However, this was… an _unexpected_ development, and we are unsure of how to proceed-"

"It's simple, really," Raine announced factually. "As a scholar who has extensively researched and studied the underworld: I have a plan."

Kratos sent her a semi-impressed glance. Although really, he shouldn't have expected much else.

"It will take time to execute," Raine continued. "And if you want the Chosen…" She sent a positively biting glare back over one thin shoulder. "Stay out of our way."

And with that, she walked straight through the crowd of gleaming Knights, who parted like a river around a boulder to let her pass. Her brother and Colette followed her instantly, as did Sheena, then Presea and Regal.

Lloyd was waiting for his father, though.

"Kratos," Raine called back casually over one shoulder. "Don't forget the Book."

Kratos frowned. But a moment later he bent down and picked up the object of mention. It hummed beneath his fingertips, like something alive, waiting to burst forth; the look on his face at the contact must've been pretty transparent, because Lloyd immediately offered to take it.

"Careful," Kratos muttered, as he handed it over.

Lloyd swung his backpack off of one shoulder and stuffed the thing into it, beside his myriad of other, rather random items.

"Thanks," Lloyd said. He turned around and followed after his friends with confident, purposeful steps.

Kratos followed. He didn't speak.

He didn't feel dead, though. And that was all that mattered.

* * *

Zelos had always prided himself on the physical state of his body, the demand under which it could be placed, despite undue stress or unwelcome circumstances. Even as a teenager, he'd been rewarded for his athletic prowess, commended for his stature. Thanked by countless women for a night they'd never forget.

Still, though. There were a million things he'd gotten himself into thus far that, by all rights, should've left him a tattered fool.

Such as, you know, entering Niflheim in such a reckless fashion.

But the Chosen was no fool.

His bodyparts all seemed to be in order. He'd landed spread-eagle and prone on… the floor, he guessed? If the underworld even had _floors_. His shoulders bunched. Zelos pushed up, away from what had felt like smooth, cool glass beneath his squished cheek. He inhaled; the sound of breathing felt hollow, echoing in his throat.

His eyes cracked open. He idly adjusted the white headband across his forehead, making all that gleaming crimson hair retreat along the back of his neck and shoulders. The floor beneath him seemed made of thick, sturdy glass. He stared straight through it. Beneath his splayed fingers swam a storm of clouds, a swirling cyclone of mists and dust.

The very ichor of his brain seemed to be buzzing and shivering inside his skull. He raised his head. Zelos saw two things instantly, both of which tightened his heart and paused his breath.

The first was Sara. She was lying on her side, directly in front of him, within an arm's reach. She wasn't moving.

The second - and the one that made him push clumsily up onto his knees - were the silent, hovering figures of eight impossibly tall shadows, forming a half-circle around them, blending into the clear floor, shivering and bubbling at their edges. Each one had a pair of luminescent eyes hovering amidst the darkness - some were red, others green or yellow or blue.

They were all looking at him.

Each shadow was a slightly different shape; some were taller and wider than others, some short and with tails or flickering wings. The night sky above their heads - or what _should've_ been the sky, anyway - felt closer than the rest of it, which sparkled with a spray of jet-black stars.

Zelos dared to inch his knees forward. "S-Sara." He reached out, shook her shoulder. "Hey. Wake up."

She moaned a little. She frowned and squeezed her already-closed eyes shut even tighter.

"Oh, shit, I didn't kill you," Zelos laughed, his face breaking out in a relieved grin. He placed his other hand on the back of her head. "Thank all the gods. Here. Take this."

 _First Aid_ swam from his palms and into her skin. She gasped. Her eyes flew open; she sat up in a flurry of teal duster and pumpkin hair.

"Easy," Zelos murmured, eyeing those shadows warily. He slid one arm beneath Sara's and pulled her close; they looked forward together, shoulder-to-shoulder, wide-eyed. "I just woke up too. I have no idea what the hell is going on."

"You're a fucking idiot," Sara ground out. "That's what."

"I didn't have a choice."

Sara held one hand to her head. She squinted at the shadows. "I'll be mad at you later. What is watching us?"

Zelos clambered to his feet, bringing her with him. "I was hoping you could tell me."

She twisted out of his grip. Her spine straightened. She took a few steps forward.

Crazy woman. "Be careful," Zelos murmured.

The shadow before her had red eyes. It didn't move, no matter how close she came; not even when she extended her hand and touched it. Its body parted and billowed in wisps of smoke to make room for her roaming claws.

"I know you," Sara said. It hummed in response, like the deepest foghorn, sending shivers through the floor.

"Y-you do?" Zelos stammered.

"Do you remember the voices?"

Zelos swallowed hard. "Yes."

"This is them," Sara said, swinging one arm towards all the shadows. She was smiling. "This is who talks to us."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I listened."

"Then…" Zelos returned to her side. "What do we do now?"

She grabbed his hand and gripped hard. "We listen some more."

Their eyes were so creepy. The back of his neck felt prickly and hot. The last thing he wanted to do was _listen_ to these things. He wanted light, and the surface, and a drink, and _normalcy-_

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Zelos murmured.

Before he knew what was happening, her free hand had become a fist and cracked into the side of his jaw.

Fucking _ow._

Zelos went sprawling, fumbling for purchase on the slick floor, fighting to remain upright. Half of those shadows seemed to growl their displeasure; the other half cheered in agreement.

He rubbed his aching, rapidly-swelling cheek and sent her a scathing glare. "You said you'd be mad at me _later!"_

"It's later," she ground out, cracking the knuckles on her recently-used hand. "Besides - you deserved that for bringing me here. _Asshole._ "

She started to say something else. That deep, rumbling noise cut her off; her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. She fell to her knees, where her claws splayed against the floor, and her fiery head bowed in instant reverence.

Without thinking, Zelos did the same, just beside her, like a mirror image.

A ninth figure approached, making the others choose sides - four for Sara, four for Zelos. It hovered in between them, far more corporeal - human in its shape, with a broad, thick sword grasped in its right hand. Its blade seemed to shimmer and fade in and out of existence.

" _Welcome_ ," it told them, in a confident, male voice that wasn't a voice at all. " _We have been waiting for you for a very, very long time._ "

* * *

It was past nightfall when they made it to a House of Guidance.

"Colette," Raine began, her hands gripping the edges of the large wooden table that seated the remainder of their group. "Please explain to us what the Priests of the Church taught you about the Book of Mists."

The Chosen had a bowl of chowder in front of her. It smelled delicious; it was made by the chefs at the House, and considering she'd spent the better part of three months unable to eat at all, she felt rather intent on downing it as quickly as possible. Who knew when she'd get the chance to do so again?

She resisted, though. Colette frowned slightly, but abated it with a bracing breath and a straightening of her thin shoulders.

"The Book of Mists is a record of the ancient battle of the Underworld, taking place ten thousand years ago, when mana first originated upon the world."

Lloyd's mouth twisted in thought. "Wait, so the world at one time didn't have mana?"

To Colette, this was a typical question that had been asked of her dozens of times growing up. Ancient knowledge of the past world was par for the course. The Church of Martel held all the secrets; it wasn't until times like these, where she was confronted headfirst, that she remembered all the things she knew were not common knowledge.

"According to the scriptures," Colette continued, "the world existed without mana until the mana planet, Derris-Kharlan, entered the world's orbit and bestowed it with mana and life. That was when life first blossomed here, and the Summon Spirit of the Giant Tree, Ratatosk, divided the Underworld from the surface so that humans could live freely from its influence."

It was strange, but Kratos was the one who asked the next question, his eyes hidden in burgundy bangs, his hands curled into fists on the worn table's surface.

"He called upon the Centurions, did he not? To watch over all monsters and balance the elements?"

"That's correct," Colette managed. The first finger of her right hand idly drew shapes of random animals on the table's wooden surface - animals she'd seen before, in both legend and scripture. "Ratatosk called upon the eight Centurions: Lumen, Aqua, Solum, Tonitrus, Glacies, Ignis, Ventus, and Tenebrae. Along with his own power, and the eight Centurions, Ratatosk was able to evenly distribute and balance the flow of mana throughout the world. Ratatosk subsequently created monsters in order to sustain that balance, which lasted several thousand years."

"I…" Genis fiddled absently with his notebook. "I never learned anything about the Centurions in my studies."

"They're asleep," Colette confirmed, wishing she'd had all of her old textbooks to demonstrate the things she'd spent so many years committing to memory. "They have been for a very long time. They haven't influenced the state of the world for four millenia."

"But they still exist," Lloyd confirmed. "Just like the Summon Spirits. What's the relationship between the two?"

"And who exactly is this _Ratatosk?_ " Regal asked.

There was a scanty silence, in which each member of the group seemed to be forming their own opinions. _Four millennia_ left a remarkably open area for opinion; Kratos had no intention of feeding into this at all.

"He resides in what is called the _Ginnungagap_ ," the Seraph offered, "The gateway between our world and Niflheim. He created the barrier between the two with the help of the Summon Spirits of Light and Darkness. A balance between the both forces was necessary in order to seal it."

A collective silence settled over them all, like a death toll. Kratos felt as if he'd given them more than enough information to solve the remainder of the puzzle; gods knew, he'd be well on his way, if he thought he'd have any chance at completing it alone-

"We need Shadow, Luna and Aska," Sheena confirmed. "We can start by making pacts with them, too. Besides, you all heard what Undine and Volt said. If we separate the two worlds, maybe Sylvarant and Tethe'alla can find peace apart from one another."

"Since we are still in Tethe'alla," Raine announced, "let's retrieve the Rheiards and head for the Temple of Darkness. Shadow's minions have historically had the strongest connection to Ratatosk and Niflheim. He may know how to aid us."

* * *

When that voice had bid her welcome, she responded without hesitation.

Sara bowed deeply, until her forehead nearly touched the glass floor. The Exsphere on her back seemed to shiver and burn.

She wasn't sure exactly who or what this newcomer was. Only that it deserved her respect.

"Thank you," she told the sword-wielding shadow. "What do you wish of us?"

" _You can advance no further,_ " it said. It held both its arms out to its sides, gesturing to the four dark figures that hovered beside each of its twitching fingertips. " _Where you stand now is but the entrance to the demonic realm. You will be allowed to enter - and then to return to your world - only after you have passed a test of worth."_

Zelos sent Sara a sidelong glance. "What do we have to do?"

The figure vanished then, in a slight hiss and a shower of charcoal sparks. It took with it all eight of its ethereal counterparts; Zelos and Sara were left completely alone, and all at once the true size of this place zoomed into view - a sprawling network of glass platforms and bridges as far as the eye could see.

" _It's very simple:"_ the shadow's disembodied voice told them, with just a hint of an amused, dark laugh.

" _Survive."_

Zelos unsuccessfully resisted the urge to mutter a curse. "That's comforting."

Sara frowned and got to her feet. "What did you expect?" She stared out over the endless distance and narrowed her eyes. "You were probably better off heading home with the Papal Knights…"

"No I wasn't," Zelos said instantly, and with a sudden fierceness that made her look at him, a little stunned. He seemed to have a hard time facing her. His hands were clenched at his sides.

Oooookay. Touchy subject, apparently.

And that had to stop. Now.

She stepped up in front of him and stared at him pointedly until he had no choice but to look at her.

" _What_?"

"I know you didn't want to kill them," Sara began, crossing her arms defiantly, "but you need to tell me why you were so afraid to face the King. We don't have time for secrets anymore. What would they have done to you?"

"Us," he corrected bitterly. He started walking towards the nearest bridge and motioned for her to follow. "It wouldn't matter if I were the Chosen or a backwoods commoner like you."

"Thanks, jackass-"

"Do you know what they do to suspected servants of Niflheim, Sara?"

She noticed the sound of her steps had started to change - from clacking on glass to a soft padding on red carpet.

Eggshell-white walls shot up all around her; silver sconces and chandeleirs sprouted from their surface like weeds, holding pearlescent candles.

This… was no longer the underworld.

This was Castle Tethe'alla.

Sara stopped instantly. She blinked. "Uh. Heh. Hey, Z? Are you seeing this?"

Zelos, though, just kept walking. His crimson head turned slightly back over one shoulder. "You didn't answer my question."

"Are you serious?" Sara darted after him, glancing frantically around these new surroundings; the only indication of anything out of the ordinary was the ceiling, which seemed a little transparent, still letting in all the impossible light from those sable stars. "I-I think there's more important shit to talk about here. Like what is going _on?"_

He stopped, too. And from the vermilion floor just behind him burst forth one of those eight shadows - tall, and lanky, and with pinpoint, sapphire-blue eyes.

"I… I don't know," Zelos admitted. He shook his head quickly. "But I know… I have to be here."

Silence descended. Zelos stared straight into Sara's gaze, his eyes wide; she noticed for the first time that they were the same shade as those of the figure behind him.

Wasn't that… interesting.

The air went still; some great creature seemed to breathe in, sucking the very life from the room - until it rushed out in a raw, head-splitting scream.

When Sara managed to open her eyes again, Zelos was right in front of her. His fingers were leaving bruises into her upper arms, and that shadow behind him was blazing like an undead bonfire.

"It's Seles," he said quietly. "That's who's screaming. It's my sister."

Sara's mouth went dry. "What? I… I didn't even know you had-"

"My _half_ -sister," he corrected; his shadow brimmed with furious, boiling energy. The carpet shivered. "She's one quarter half-elf. The Church blamed her for Belinda's death because of that." His face slammed into a furious scowl. "She was there that night. In Flanoir. In the snow. They didn't want to admit I might've been… _this_. So they blamed her instead."

Someone screamed again, from the chamber just beside them. Sara's heart plummeted into her stomach.

The sound was female, yes. But _young_. Zelos looked like he was about to pass out or throw up, whichever deigned itself to happen first.

"Fuck this," Sara murmured. She gripped his shoulders; her claws threatened to pierce into his dusty-pink vest. "Let's go get her."

Zelos' shadow purred, then slunk out of the way, to give them an unobstructed view of the door ahead.


End file.
